As changes are made
by Yaoi-Mayer
Summary: Russia wants to become one with Austria. Austria doesn't want to, and so, Russia goes to drastic measures to force him to.
1. As it begins

**Okay, guys, this if my first fanfiction ever, so it's probably rotten and not good. But I want to improve, so don't kill me for this! English isn't my native language, so I'm sorry for mistakes, both grammatically and language-like.  
>Rated M for smut, probably involving pain as it <strong>is** Russia we're dealing with. Now, try and enjoy!**

The world meeting had started. All the nations were gathered, talking about the problems the world was facing at the moment.  
>They basically talked over each other and made a ruckus so no one couldn't really hear what was going on. Germany tried to bring around piece and order but no one listened. They were all basically doing what they wanted. Austria got mocked by Prussia, and it was obvious that Hungary tried to calm and control herself, so she wouldn't inflict too much damage on the white-haired nation with her preferred weapon of heavy metal, which normal people would use for cooking. America ate as if he hadn't had food for several weeks, England sent him an irritated gaze while drinking his tea and trying to ignore France who was hitting on him, being the pervert he was. Italy was sleeping, as well as Greece, and Spain looked around the room. Lichtenstein and Switzerland were talking together. Ukraine seemed to be a bit nervous and just sat in her chair, not talking with any one nor doing anything. Belarus had spent the last half an hour by starring at Russia, whom instead glared at China, his sinister smile on its correct place, making China pretty nervous. It was actually only Japan that seemed to pay a fair amount of attention to the German.<br>And then, he finally raised his voice to a loud tone, making sure everyone heard him.  
>"Shut up, every single of you! We are here to solve problems, not making more, <em>sleeping<em>," he underlined that word as he cast a glaze at Italy and Greece, who didn't wake, "and we're not here to mock each other, _Gilbert_, so please, just focus on the task at hand!" Gilbert looked like he really didn't care about his brother, but silenced anyway.  
>Silence fell over the room for a few moments where nothing was said and no one moved a muscle, except for Italy who was waking up. Amazingly, he didn't make much noise as he did. When he was finally awake, the meeting started again. And this time, it proceeded in peace and order where the nations only talked when asked. They all knew how angry Germany could be if disobeyed, and no one really wanted to experience that.<br>Greece was the only one who didn't happen to experience anything that happened at the meeting, as he just continued sleeping and snoring.

Russia wasn't paid much attention. Not that he cared, though. He had a hard time not glancing too much at the small Austrian three seats away, and frankly, he would prefer the other didn't notice it. He was supposed to be overly obsessed with China, not Austria. There was just something about him the bigger nation couldn't ignore. He wondered what he should do. Although, he already kind of had a plan formed in his head. And there was little - if at all - doubt he would follow through.

He stood up, the others looking at him with mild surprise in their eyes. China twitched slightly in his seat, fearing what he was sure was about to come. His fear and confusion only grew bigger as the Russian walked towards him and stopped behind his seat, looking down at the man dressed in pretty robes.  
>"Don't you worry, <em>da<em>! I won't do anything to you!" he said, not quite convincing and not quite comforting, either, and pat China on the head with a power that pushed him longer down in the chair, fear and confusion clearly shown in his eyes. But fear yielded for confusion when the bigger nation moved on and then again stopped behind the Austrian, who looked up, clearly just as surprised as everyone else, but with no fear in his eyes. Russia looked down at him, the smile becoming wider, and not less sinister.  
>"Is there anything I can do for you, although I doubt it?" the aristocrat said and turned in his chair so that he better could see the tall man. The smile widened even more, if possible.<br>"_Da_! I would like to have a few words with you," This didn't seem to calm Austria down, and he hesitated a few seconds, which was long enough for Russia to grab him by the collar and drag him out of the room.  
>"Hey!" he heard Hungary call out as she got up and looked after them, already wielding her frying pan.<br>"What are you doing? Let go of me!" Austria said and tried to free himself from the hands clenching his shoulder. He might as well just give up. Russia's strength was immense and if he didn't want to let go himself, he couldn't be forced to.

Austria let himself be dragged across the room, through another, and then Russia let go of him in a small, dark and foul-smelling room. He immediately straightened his knee-long, blue jacket and brushed off some dust particles left by the other nation's gloves. He then looked at the Russian with narrow eyes.  
>"Why, may I ask, have you dragged me off to here?" he asked, suspicious.<br>"I want you to become with me, _da_!" the other answered and smiled, as if he requested something totally reasonable. Austria sighed and put two fingers to his temple. Russia already knew that this wasn't possible and that he wouldn't do it. But yet, he asked:  
>"And just why would I agree to that?"<br>"Because you don't really have much of a choice." The smiles was sinister alright, no doubt about that.  
>"What on Earth are you ..." the Austrian started, but he never got to finish his sentence, as the Russian pulled out a slightly sweet-smelling cloth and tried to put it over the other's face, who dodged and tried to get out of the room. He was hindered, though, as Russia grabbed him around the waist and pulled him backwards, deeper into the room. When they hit the wall, Russia laid a hand around Austria's throat and felt the smaller nation freeze and knew he could do whatever he wanted now; he knew that Austria was very much aware of the fact that Russia could kill him simply by tightening the hand around his neck.<br>The Austrian forced himself to talk in a low and self-controlled voice as he spoke, but not quite able to blur the anxiety.  
>"I... trust you do know that... this won't go unnoticed?" he said, slightly struggling to speak. The hand around his throat was, after all, quite forceful.<br>"Oh, don't worry about that," the Russian said, cheerfully as if he wasn't doing something that would be considered against the law and human morals, "they'll think nothing of it, _da_." Austria would protest, but didn't get to, as the man behind him put the cloth over his nose and mouth.  
>At first, Austria didn't breath. He knew very well what the other nation tried to do - there was chloroform on the cloth, he was sure of it - and he also knew that if he inhaled it, he would lose consciousness and pass out; a thing he wasn't eager to in Russia's presence. But Russia noticed that Austria tried not to breath and, with the sinister smile on his face as always, punched him in the stomach, so the smaller nation gasped and inhaled a rather large amount of the anaesthetic. After a few seconds, he felt the world turn around, he became dizzy and his body flabby, as he lost consciousness.<br>Russia waited for a couple of minutes before lifting the small, light body and took it to the room where the other nations were still talking. They all became silent as the big nation entered, carrying the smaller man in his arms.  
>Hungary was the first to make a move, although it took her a long, shocking minute to realize what she was seeing. She then stood up, slowly, not quite sure what she should think, but it was easy for any one present to see that she blamed Russia for whatever had happened.<br>"What did you do to Mr. Austria?" she asked; her voice low and trembling. She sure didn't know what had happened, but she knew very well that it only could be Russia's fault. The bigger nation just smiled at her, didn't answer and walked towards Ludwig, still with the Austrian cradled in his arms. The German pulled his seat a few centimetres backwards. He wasn't exactly afraid of Russia, but right now, he wasn't interested in his presence. He glanced quickly at the smaller person. His eyes were closed, and he hadn't marks or wounds, so they at least hadn't been fighting. He also looked rather peaceful.  
>"I'll be off to take care of him," was the only thing Russia said, whereupon he turned around and marched out of the room, his big boots banging against the clean, polished floor.<br>"Damn no, you won't!" Hungary screamed, grabbed her frying pan and lunged towards the Russian, ready to swing it and smash his head, not at all considering the possibly dangerous consequences it could result in. But he was faster. Grabbing her wrist and forcing it down, along with the frying pan, he turned towards her, smiled his sinister smile as he always did and said:  
>"Please, don't worry about your dear Roderich. He'll be fine. If he behaves, that is." And then, without further circumlocution, he gently pushed her back and marched out of the room with a loud, cheerful "Do svidaniya!" and left the other nations in shock.<p>

It didn't take him long time to get home. Or, at least he didn't think so, but others would probably think of it as a dreadful and lengthy walk. Sure, it was cold and your feet might hurt a bit, but when you had walked for about half an hour, it wasn't that bad anymore.  
>As he got home with the smaller nation still curled up in his arms, he found a room in which to put him. The room was furnished with a big couch behind a rectangular table of glass, and in front of this were two armchairs. There was also a fireplace, a bookcase filled with books – in Russian, of course, both Cyrillic and normal letters – there was a world map on the wall beside it, and on each side of the fireplace were there doors. One led to a bathroom and the other to a bedroom.<br>Ivan had put Roderich in one of the armchairs before he had gone to his study to finish some paperwork.

As the Austrian woke up, he put a hand to his head, uttering a silent moan as he felt a keen, stinging headache and decided to stay where he was, just for a few minutes. Now that he thought about it… where, actually, was he? He looked around the room. Nothing seemed familiar in any way. He didn't remember having visited a place with a world map hanging beside a bookcase with that many books, except for his own place, and he knew for sure that this wasn't his home. It was too bloody cold and the dust lay in thick layers on every straight surface.  
>He decided to get up, despite of the stinging headache, and investigate the room he had been put in. The fireplace was cold and empty. There wasn't even coal or ashes. It looked like ages since it had last been used. Roderich sighed and shivered, looking for something to light the fire. He couldn't find anything but the books, and he simply refused to burn books just to keep warm. Then an idea came to him. If he took a book and looked at the language written in it, he could maybe find out where he was.<br>He did it, and when he found that he was in Russia, he stiffened, while things slowly crawled back into his memory. He had been in the middle of a meeting with the other nations, discussing and arguing, all the while being annoyed and mocked by Prussia. And then, Russia had stood up, dragged him out of the room, then… then he had been drugged by said nation, anaesthetized with chloroform.  
>He felt anger build inside him and the blood rose to his cheeks. That damn psycho! How dared he kidnap him like that! It was against the law and it was against all human morals and ethics! Though, of course, Russia had always been outstanding as far as morals and ethics go. He was known for not sharing the same moral as everyone else, always going his own ways and doing as he wanted.<br>He then heard the door creak and turned towards it so quick he felt the muscles in the neck crack. He uttered a "ouch" and put a hand to the sore spot and massaged it gently.  
>The entering person started talking to him. It was a soft and caring voice, not at all like Russia's, and Roderich looked up. It was the older sister, Ukraine. He narrowed his eyes a bit, trusting the girl slightly more than the brother, but he thought he should still be careful when around her, the other sister, Belarus, or Russia himself. They were crazy, he knew that. But he was also pretty sure that Ukraine was the sanest of them.<br>"Mr. Austria," she said, her chest moving slightly every time she moved, "is there anything I can do for you?" Austria inhaled deeply, trying to ignore the slightly musty and stuffy atmosphere. 'This room hasn't been used in ages,' he thought and unconsciously crossed his arms.  
>"Yes, Mrs. Ukraine, you can tell me why Russia has brought me here," he said in a colder tone than he was used to. Ukraine knew from others that the person in front of her normally talked in a soft and caring, warm voice, and when she heard the cold tone, she bowed her head slightly forward.<br>"Surely my brother must have told you the reason for you being here?" Roderich ransacked his mind, trying to find information that may lead him to the correct answer or just an answer at all.  
>"Well," he started, "I do remember him saying some nonsense about wanting me to 'become one with Russia' or something like that." Ukraine nodded, squeezing her hands together in front of her, making her already busty chest look even bigger. Probably unconscious. Roderich stood there, waiting for some information that could explain why he was brought to Russia's house, a move he saw completely unnecessary and horrible as he had been abducted. But as it didn't come, he asked:<br>"Then, would you please tell me the reason he abducted me and brought me to his house? I don't see how it is a relevant or fair move," the Austrian said and loosened his body a bit. He felt somewhat safe around Ukraine; she didn't seem dangerous.  
>She seemed quite surprised by this.<br>"My brother abducted you?" Roderich sighed again. It seemed Russia had told her a blatant lie, probably having saved him or something like that.  
>"No. I have just decided to go on a trip to this godforsaken land full of snow and cold, only wearing this knee-long jacket of mine." The sarcasm was thick enough to taste, it practically dripped down the walls. Austria knew it wasn't a clever move to call this country godforsaken, but he was starting to lose his temper and patience. Ukraine blushed and bowed her head again.<br>"I-I'm sorry, Mr. Austria, but I thought…" she stopped, gasped, as a gloved hand tapped her shoulders. The Austrian needn't stand on his toes or turn his head, as Ukraine had to to find out who was behind her.  
>"I see you're already great friends, <em>da<em>?" Russia said with a smile not as sinister and insane as usual. "That is good." Ukraine suddenly looked intimidated by having her brother so close to her, and she squeezed her hands even harder. She took a few steps forward, then turned around and bowed for her brother.  
>"Russia-sama," she said, her voice being low as she dashed out of the room, her chest bouncing as if filled with springs.<br>They were now alone. Roderich Edelstein, known for being honest, but in a polite way, trying not to harm anyone without utmost necessity. The aristocrat, being known for acting neutral, trying to come out of an argument and still being friends with all involved. Knowing for loving art, and especially his piano and his precious music more than anything else, as well as he was known for having been married to Hungary, who still held romantic feelings towards him. This, though, he wasn't aware of. He merely saw Hungary's feelings and actions around him as friendly.  
>And then there was Ivan Braginski, known for being malicious, highly violent and always with a sinister smile on his face. The Russian, being known for doing things his way, not really listening to others or their opinions. And the Russian known for having an almost sick obsession with China, and always carrying either a faucet pipe or a bottle of Vodka, and having a weakness for sunflowers.<p>

As the two men stared at each other, Roderich felt his courage fall, but continued to look into the bigger nation's purple eyes and childish face. He just smiled down at the Austrian, not saying anything nor doing anything. Just stood there, maybe waiting for Roderich to make a move.  
>But the smaller nation wouldn't. He wouldn't give in to Russia's silent demands and be the first to speak. And so, Ivan had to break the silence. He did.<br>"So, my good Austrian, I trust you know why you are being put here and what I want from you."  
>"You want me to become one with you." Russia nodded.<br>"_Da_!"  
>"But then, Ivan," the Austrian sighed, once again massaging his temple, "why have you brought me here, to your house? I am pretty sure that there is another thought behind this. You could easily have tried to talk me into it when we were at the world meeting. There were lots of other rooms." Russia walked into the room and closed the door behind him as he did. He walked towards Austria, who just stood there, not quite able to hide his anxiety over the situation. When Ivan was right in front him, Roderich swallowed something, terribly wanting to step back, but not wanting to lose face to the other, either. He suddenly realized how small he was, compared to Russia. Mariazell was just in height to reach the other's chin.<br>Ivan's smile fainted slightly as he looked down at the aristocrat.  
>"You don't overlook any detail, do you? No matter how small," Roderich crossed his arms over his chest.<br>"I try not to. Now, answer my question."  
>"Ah, but it wouldn't be fun if I just told you, now would it?" And then, without warning, he pulled back his arm, pushed it forward and struck the smaller nation right in solar plexus, making Roderich gasp and collapse, cramping and holding around his waist and stomach. Ivan then grabbed him by the collar and pulled him to his legs, looking directly into those violet eyes behind a pair of glasses. They looked very wet, as if he was on the verge of crying.<br>"You will soon know the reason for you being here," he said, smiled and let go of Roderich, who fell to the floor again where he continued to lie. His stomach hurt so much he couldn't find words for it; he couldn't talk and he could merely breathe, inhaling and exhaling in small, painful gasps.  
>With these words, Ivan left the room and Roderich. The Austrian vaguely heard the door click and knew that Russia had locked the door.<p>

He lay on the floor for what seemed like an hour. Two perhaps. Not because the pain lasted that long, but it felt somewhat comfortable to just lie there, not doing anything or thinking. Just lying there, although the carpet and the floor itself were filthy and filled with dust.  
>It took him forever to get up. First, he rose to his knees, sitting in that position for a couple of minutes, before he very slowly got to his feet and stood up, slightly bend over, his stomach still hurting a bit when moving. He slowly walked to the bathroom to get some water, realizing how thirsty he actually was.<br>The bathroom wasn't hygienic. Like what Roderich supposed was the living room, this room was filthy and dust lay in thick layers all over. Spiders had made webs in all possible corners and nothing in here looked like it had ever been used. Roderich was surprised to see that the faucet pipe was still there, at least. It had probably taken a lot of Ukraine's or Belarus' time and energy to convince her brother to let it be in right place, should the guest room ever become useful again.  
>Suddenly not feeling thirsty anymore, the Austrian walked to the bedroom, more quickly as the pain in solar plexus subsided. The bedroom wasn't much better than the others. The sheets were dirty, dark spots to be spotted everywhere, the duvet and pillow were just as filthy and bed itself creaked when Roderich lowered himself onto it. He instantly got up as he saw a cockroach stick its head out under the duvet, looking for the one disturbing the peace.<br>"I guess I'll be sleeping on the couch tonight," he mumbled to himself and walked into the living room, where he laid on the couch. He rolled around a few times; lay there for about half an hour, before he fell asleep.

When Russia woke up the next morning, he felt happy, but he couldn't remember why. He remembered, though, something about a certain aristocrat denying becoming one with him. And then, the rest of the day, or should he say evening, crept through his memories, and he smiled widely. Not sinister this times, but just a genuine happy face, not with any dark or creepy meaning. Okay, maybe just a tiny bit sinister.  
>He got up, stretched his long and big body, before he got dressed and grabbed the nearest faucet pipe before he walked out into the hallway, going to wake up his older sister.<br>He opened the door to her room and called to her.  
>"Onee-san~ It's a beautiful morning, wake up, da~" he almost sang and danced into her bedroom, gently shaking her shoulders. She mumbled something, moaned quietly and then slowly sat up, rubbing and trying to shield her eyes at the same time, as her brother had allowed the sun to shine through the window and into the room.<br>"What are you so happy about?" she said, her voice husky from sleep.  
>"Our guest, remember? Now, get up!" he answered and plopped down beside her, waiting for her to get up and about, not minding that she would have to get dressed first.<br>"Uhm, but I need to take my clothes on first," she said, finally completely awake. She looked at her smiling brother who just sat there and stared at her, happy.  
>"You can do that with me around, <em>da<em>!" he sung and turned his back on his sister, so she didn't have to feel embarrassed by him looking at her when she was most vulnerable. He heard the rustling sounds of clothes falling to the floor and clothes being put on. He swung his legs back and forth like a little child and whistled softly as he was waited for his sister to finish. When he assumed she was finished, he turned around and found his sister dressed as usually; a white shirt stuffed into the braced trousers.  
>Ivan smiled and jumped to his feet, eager to continue. But the eagerness subdued as he realized that he now had to awake Belarus, his other and creepier sister who held an unhealthy, romantic obsession towards him. He let the pipe sink a bit before saying to Ukraine, that she could go and wake the other. She sent him a confused look, not really getting him or his way of thinking. Ivan dashed out of the room, nearly running towards the guest room where he knew the Austrian would be sleeping. The clock was only 8 o'clock in the morning. He had to still be sleeping, Russia reckoned. Roderich didn't seem to be quite the morning person.<br>When he reached the door, he pulled out a big, old-fashioned key and put in the keyhole, turned the key and heard the lock click, meaning it was now open, and he entered.  
>As he thought, the Austrian was still sleeping. Ivan smiled widely, walked over to him and shook his shoulder, till he awoke. The violet eyes were not capable of focusing, both because they needed the glasses, and because their owner had only just awaked.<br>"It's a beautiful day, _da_!" the bigger nation smiled and let go of the other man. "Wake up!" Roderich sat up and grabbed his glasses that had been lying on the table. He placed them on his nose, and his vision cleared, able to see again. He sighed at the smile on the other nation's face.  
>"I don't see how I could possibly be happy about that," he said and stretched his limbs; several of them cracked and he felt the pain move around in the bones; he was not used to sleep on couches, "as I am being held hostage in a house famous for giving shelter to a mentally unstable person." He massaged his sore joints and stood up. Although he normally never would even consider sleeping in his everyday clothes, he had found himself forced to do so. There was no carpet in here, and the room was really cold, so sleeping wearing his coat had been the only solution.<br>"Ah, but don't think of it like that!" Ivan said cheerfully and leant against a window, creating a long and big shadow on the floor. "Think of it as a once in a lifetime opportunity to visit the biggest and most influential country in the world, which you will of course become one with, _da_!"  
>"I am very sorry, Ivan," Roderich said and could taste the lie he had just recited, "but as I believe I also told you yesterday, I don't plan on becoming one with you. What could you possibly offer me that I wouldn't be able to refuse or be able to get myself?"<br>"Faucet pipes!" Ivan said in a highly excited tone and lifted his own pipe. Just as the Austrian was about to argue, he continued, "endless supplies of Vodka – it's kind of our subsoil water – and power! I can promise you power you otherwise will never experience, _da_!"  
>"Mr. Russia," Austria started, trying to sound calm and reasonable as he put two fingers to his temple, "I am very sorry to decline your offer, but I'm not interested in faucet pipes or as much Vodka I could pour down my throat, as I don't drink that kind of strong alcohol, nor am I interested in more power. I'm fully satisfied with the amount of authority I have now. I assure you, I don't want to become one with you."<br>What then happened was something Roderich had never foreseen could ever happen. He saw the Russian's smile faint, making his usually childish face sad and gloomy to look at. His shoulders dropped a bit, and the faucet pipe he held in his hands lowered.  
>"Why?" he mumbled. Austria was confused for a couple of seconds and then opened his mouth to say something, but the bigger nation anticipated him. "Why won't you become one with me? Do you not like me?" Roderich wanted to say something, but it was as if his voice was caught in his throat. More so, he didn't quite know what to answer. The truth was that he didn't like to be in the same room as the Russian, at least not when it was only those two. But this, he was afraid of saying. Frankly put, he was afraid the bigger nation would crush him with a single blow of his giant fist.<br>He shifted uncomfortably as he started to speak. He noticed how he stuttered and how shaky his voice had become.  
>"Uhm, Mr. Russia, it's not that…. I don't like you. You're probably a good person, and I'm sure that…" but was then interrupted by the other man. His head had lolled forward and he clenched his fist. Roderich could almost feel the anger, or perhaps, it was frustration, emanate from the other nation as he stood by the window. He suddenly turned around, facing the glass and looking at all the snow.<br>"Do you know, Austria," he then began, speaking slowly, clearly preventing him from doing anything violent towards the things – or persons – in the room, "how I feel? How lonely I am? No one comes to visit me. I rarely see other faces than my sisters' or the Baltic States'. They are kind and helpful, sure, but just seeing the same faces again and again makes me feel lonely, somehow."  
>Roderich just stood where he had gotten up as he awoke. He didn't know what to say or do. He just looked at the Russian's back and the faucet pipe in his hand.<br>"You," he started again and abruptly turned towards the Austrian, who immediately took a few steps back. The look in Ivan's face was outright scary. His eyes didn't contain or emanate desire to kill or harm, nor did it show any sign of sudden or uncontrollable aggression that may be taken out on him, Roderich. But in his eyes was something he had never thought he would see in the slightly mentally ill person. There was grief, despair and a slightly gleam of frustration. "You have always been surrounded by many different persons. Germany, Prussia, Italy, Hungary, Spain, France, Switzerland and his sister."  
>"Now, "the Austrian said, trying to get some facts straight, "it's not like I invite them over. Except, maybe, for Elizabeta, but that is different. The others just come barging in and it's not like they're polite and consider how I feel about it! Prussia only comes to mock me, and…" but yet again, Russia interrupted him.<br>"When I was a child, I was left alone to take care of myself. I had no one to turn to, and no one would help me. My sisters were taken away from me. My only company was General Winter. Not that talkative. He was only with me for half a year at a time, and so, the other six months, I had to do everything myself, being alone and lost." His voice had lowered to no more than a blurry and hoarse tone, as if … as if he was on the verge of crying.  
>The Austrian had never in his life been prepared to experience this and he didn't know what he should do or what he should say. On one hand, he didn't like it when people felt depressed or sad – except if it was a certain, white-haired nation with red eyes and a horrible personality that had probably deserved it – and he always tried to cheer people up if they felt down. But on the other hand, he was afraid of Russia, even if he was somehow vulnerable and melancholy. It could, after all, turn to sudden anger and aggression which could result in violence, a thing Roderich wasn't a fan of.<br>He cleared this throat, reluctantly taking a step forward so he could see Russia's face. It was dark, gloomy and worrying, not at all childish as it used to be.  
>"I was alone, Roderich," he whispered, and the aristocrat was somewhat shocked to hear the other say his personal name. "Imagine it. Being in this house all alone. This enormous house, with all its rooms, dark corners, high ceiling. Have you any idea how lonely it is? How you end up feeling?" He abruptly stood up, and Roderich twitched at the sudden movement. Ivan's eyes were no more filled with sorrow, agony, despair or painful emotions. Now it was angry feelings that showed in them. Fury, hostility, aggression and hatred.<br>"People left me. They didn't want to have anything to do with me. I wasn't good enough. Or maybe, I was actually _too_ good? What do you think?" he asked as he took two steps towards the Austrian, standing right in front of him, watching the aristocrat become truly anxious.  
>"Do people hate me? Do you? Disgust me? Do they want to forsake me? Do you? Do they want to leave me – again? Why won't people become with me? I'm the biggest, the most powerful in the world; I can make everything good again." Austria didn't know what to do; he just stood there and looked into the Russian's wild, furious eyes. They maintained eye contact for what seemed like an eternity, until Roderich couldn't take it anymore and averted his eyes.<br>The atmosphere in the room was very tense and somehow awkward. It was so thick you thought you could reach out a hand and take a handful of it. Anxiety and anger, hatred, frustration and yet something like understanding filled the room. As if the two nations had reached an understanding of each other. Finally, Roderich looked into Ivan's eyes and tried to figure out the feelings he could see in them. But he couldn't. Emotions appeared, showing for less than a second, then disappeared, making room for others. He couldn't tell what the other really felt. Maybe all humanly possible feelings at once? He looked as if though this was the truth.  
>Roderich stood in front of him, looking him directly in the eyes, still trying to sort out all of those emotions. Then, the Russian spoke. It was with a low and almost husky voice.<br>"I-I'll be off. Feel free to examine the house, except for the study. Put a foot in there without my permission, and I will personally transform you into a mushy pile of bones and muscles." The last sentence came out hard and brutal, and Austria knew that Russia was being himself again, sentimentality long gone and forgotten.  
>He then pushed the aristocrat down on the couch and rushed out of the room, leaving the other man completely confused over what has just happened. He just looked at the place the Russian had disappeared and whispered:<br>"Ivan… what… was that all about?"


	2. As emotions are shown

**Soooooo, moving on. This is the emotional part, 'cause yes, Russia can show emotions, too. Apparently.  
>In next chapter, the smut will slowly begin!<strong>

Ivan had rushed off to the room he had forbidden Roderich to enter. He slammed the door shut, locked it and sat down in his chair behind the mahogany desk. He buried his face in his big hands, fingers curling in the ash-grey hair and eyes closed tightly. His elbows were placed at the edge of the desk, arms shaking lightly.  
>"Oh dear Lord, what have I done…" he whimpered, his voice husky and low. His thoughts circulated about the things he had just told the Austrian. How could he have been so dumb? He had sworn to himself that no one was to found out about his past or how he had felt. He had sworn that he would stay strong and not let the past sneak into his mind ever again, it shouldn't even be allowed to flicker across his mind for a single moment. The past was unchangeable; it wouldn't do any good to linger about it. He had to look forward, only forward, look for the future; only there could he do something.<br>So, why in the world had he let all those thoughts be formed into words and flung them at Roderich? Why would he tell the aristocrat, a person he didn't even know that well or spoke with a lot, how he had felt as a child, how he had been abandoned by everyone he thought he knew? How would he ever make up for it? He couldn't allow Roderich to tell anyone, not a single soul should know about this. Even though he was the biggest and toughest nation and all didn't mean he didn't care about what people thought of him or what they said about him behind his back. He _had_ feelings, although he maybe wasn't good at showing them. It just … it just wasn't natural for him to show these feelings. He had learned to supress them and to not give into them. When he was a child, there hadn't been room for showing feelings, let alone giving into them or reacting to them.  
>These thoughts continued circulating in Ivan's mind, as he tilted his head, making it rest on his hands. He looked at a bookcase, also filled with books. These books were only in Cyrillic. He liked that the better. It seemed more appropriate, somehow. Like it was only his books, his letters, and in that way, only he could read them so they belonged just to him.<br>There was all kind of books. History, culture, nature. Of course, all of them about Russia. He may not seem like it, but he actually liked reading. It was kind of relaxing and comfortable. And quiet. He enjoyed the silence when he read. He always made sure to lock the door so he wouldn't be disturbed. Although it was quite distracting when he heard his older sister walk down the hallway. Her voluminous chest made a very loud noise whenever she moved, and especially if she ran. But in its own way, it was some kind of cute. If it hadn't been for the pain it caused in her shoulders and back, that is. That was a pity. Oh well. Nothing to do about that. She seemed to be happy, despite the pain, and despite the fact she was pretty poor.  
>Realizing that his thoughts weren't about his earlier blunder about blabbering out his past to a certain aristocrat anymore, Ivan looked at the grandfather clock in the corner. It was already almost lunch-time. He suddenly felt how hungry he was, his stomach growling loudly. But he felt lazy and still rather furious, or should he say confused, perhaps both, so he didn't want to leave his room. He looked around, searching for something to fulfil his need for food. He didn't find anything eatable, but his eyes stopped at his supply of Vodka outside the window, on the cornice. Close enough.<br>Two bottles later, he wasn't hungry anymore. Or at least, he didn't feel it. Instead, he felt his anger rise again, although he of course wasn't drunk. He had started thinking about his mistake in the guest room once again. How could he have been so stupid? It was clear for everyone to see and know that Roderich would blabber about this to all the other nations he was in contact with. That would be Hungary, Prussia, Germany… and Hungary. Again. He would probably tell her twice, shocked by what the Russian had told him.  
>Ivan was just about to take another swig of the third bottle, as a thought struck him with all its might. Roderich wouldn't tell anyone… if he didn't get the chance to. If Roderich never was allowed to call or write them, they would probably never know. If Roderich never got back, they would definitely never know.<br>A cruel and sinister smile found its place at his face, and he started laughing, laughing so loud he was sure the others in the house would hear. But he didn't care right now. Of course he wouldn't allow Roderich to escape. Ever. He would stay here, with Ivan, forever, and sure, he would eventually become with Russia. It was only a question about time. 'About how long time it would take to break that prissy aristocrat down, to make him mentally vulnerable and then', Russia banged one of the empty bottles against the table, making glass splinters fly in every direction and even hit Ivan on the face, giving him a scratch from which blood started to seep, 'then he wouldn't dare deny my every whim!' Ivan finished his line of thoughts and looked at the broken glass. Small drops of Vodka dripped from the splinters and seeped into the carpet.  
>He plumped to the floor, raising one hand to his head, not to wipe away the trail of blood sliding down his chin, but to give his head some support as he let it loll forward. He let out a heavy sigh and grabbed another bottle of the clear, highly alcoholic liquid and poured it down his throat, ot even feeling the stinging it made on its way down. 'Prissy aristocrat,' he thought.<p>

_Meanwhile, in the guest room…._

Roderich didn't move a muscle. He still stared at the door. He couldn't believe what had just happened. Ivan had blurted out his feelings like he hadn't talked about it for centuries. Thinking about it, he probably hadn't. Ivan wasn't the type to concede how he felt. Not when it was that deep and sentimental, that is. If he wanted to brutally murder another, he didn't hesitate a second to say so. Roderich had experienced that quite a few times at the meetings. But Ivan had never carried out his murderous plans. Not yet, at least.  
>Likewise, he wasn't hiding the fact he was strongly attracted to Yao Wang.<br>So why would he hide his sensitive side, his more… human side? Maybe it made him feel vulnerable, a weakling or not worthy of being so powerful and influential? 'That sounds very reasonable', Roderich assumed as he sat in the couch, leant back and with crossed legs. A thing, by the way, Gilbert apparently found extremely hilarious. At any rate, he was mocked by the slightly evil-looking nation every time he did it. 'You look like a sissy when you sit like that,' the other loved to point out, 'which you of course also are. Although I wouldn't mind if you were _my_ sissy,' he would finish his sentence, whereupon Roderich would kick him out. The Prussian liked to invite himself over, not thinking about whether or not the host found it appropriate, which Roderich of course never did. But he had long ago learned that Gilbert went his own ways, doing what he pleased. Just like Ivan.  
>His thoughts went back to try and figure out why Ivan had behaved as he had. How on Earth could he be so devastated by Roderich's denial in becoming one with him? He must have heard that a thousand times, if not more. He surely must be used to it. Not that it was a positive thing, of course. Being denied like that so many times had to affect a person somehow. But surely, hearing the same words or sentences, every time declining his offer - 'Or order', Roderich thought to himself – must kind of lose its meaning or harshness, right? That made some kind of sense, didn't it? Take love as an example. If a person says "I love you" to all his or hers friends, the words somehow lose their original meaning and depth. Like it was a thing that was normal to say to everyone. At least, so thought Roderich. He would never say "I love you" to a friend or a brother, had he had one. It had been difficult enough to say it to Elizabeta for the first time. He couldn't imagine saying it to friends as well. Of course, he thought, then it would eventually become easier. But there was a fine, fine line between being not-that-hard to say, and being too easy and so, the chance of the words getting misused would increase dramatically.<br>For a moment, Roderich had forgotten what he thought of before love. Then, as he remembered it, he got up and walked over to the window with crossed arms. He looked out the window, eyeing the snow that lay in big heaps and made the surroundings look much whiter and shine a lot more than they probably actually did. It was actually quite beautiful, the aristocrat thought. He was used to snow, sure thing. They had plenty of it in his country. In certain seasons, at least. Then all the tourists would flood the country with their skis, their thick and warm clothes and noisy children. But the snow disappeared again after a short while. In Russia, it was there throughout the year.  
>"I wonder how Ivan feels about the large amounts of snow. It must be a pretty big part of his life. It's always present, after all," Roderich mumbled to himself, leaning against the window frame. "But I suppose he has gotten used to it." He heard a noise and turned towards it. But the door was still open, and no one was to be seen. He passed it off as imagination, but the creaking sound had somehow awakened his stomach, and he felt how hungry he actually was. He tried to find a clock somewhere to find out what time it was, but without any luck. He therefore decided to try to find one in the house and explore it while he did so.<br>Although Ivan had said he was free to examine the house, Roderich didn't feel right or good about it. It was if the walls watched and followed him. It was the same with all the paintings hanging on them. He felt very uncomfortable about it. Although the hallways were very nice and pretty – mahogany walls with amazing adornments and the floor was covered with a very, very long and ruby-red carpet, and sculptures were placed here and there – it was still quite scary. Just knowing this was Ivan's residence, along with his two sisters. He wasn't afraid of the Baltic States that he also knew lived here. They seemed rather rational and sane, unlike the house's owner.  
>Roderich soon reached the kitchen, which was quite large and slightly ostentatious. But he liked it that way. The size and arrangement kind of reminded him of his own kitchen. He walked around to found something eatable, until he realized that he didn't know if he was allowed to take anything. He probably wasn't and he didn't quite have the desire to feel Ivan beat his bones to dust, so he decided to abandon the idea about food. Instead, he sat on a chair and started thinking again.<br>He wondered if Ivan would ever let him go again. Of course, the aristocrat didn't honestly think the Russian would hold him as a hostage and refuse to let him go no matter what. He, at some point to, had to let him go. Hadn't he? 'Yes, he had', Roderich decided. Otherwise, he was pretty sure Elizabeta would show up and bash in the front door with her beloved frying pan in hand.  
>But, honestly… what should he do if Ivan refused to let him leave? He sure didn't want to end his days in this house and without seeing his ex-wife again. He would probably also end up missing Ludwig, perhaps even the crazy Gilbert, although it was highly questionable.<br>He put a hand on the table in front of him, resting his head on the palm, thinking once again. He often found himself doing that too often. He would normally play the piano when he needed to think. But he couldn't take his mind off Ivan at the moment. He wondered what he was doing and where he was. A qualified guess would be the study as he had been forbidden access to that room.  
>What could Ivan's breakdown have meant? Was it simply because he couldn't bear it anymore, to walk around alone, with no one really wanting to be friends, couldn't bear to walk alone with all those thoughts and feelings inside, not having any one to share them with? Or could there perhaps be a deeper meaning with it? Maybe something like already thinking of Roderich as a friend or ally, and therefore a person he could trust?<br>He couldn't answer any of these questions, and it kind of nagged him. He looked out the window again, arms crossed, letting his mind wander.


	3. As Austria starts to fall

**So. This is the chapter where smut will slowly begin to appear. Yes… first time writing things like this, so please, don't kill me, okay? But, I swear, next chapter will be pervy and dirty!  
>I have forgotten to say so in the other chapters, but I don't own Hetalia or any of it characters. Sadly.<strong>

Ivan had been seated on the floor for a couple of hours before he sighed heavily and got up, standing still for a second to make the world get into focus again. He then grabbed another bottle of Vodka and walked out in the hallway, remembering to lock the door after him.  
>He went to the guest room. He wanted to… talk… to his guest for a bit. Ivan had kind of expected Roderich to be in the room, but he wasn't surprised to see the opposite; the room was empty. He then began walking around the house to find the aristocrat and he just snorted as he found him in the kitchen.<br>"I should've known you would be here. You prissy aristocrat," he said as he entered the room and looked at the other, who whirled around to meet his gaze.  
>"I believe I have the right to be in the kitchen as you gave me permission to walk around the house, except for the study," Roderich said, his tone slightly cold, but yet surprised. He noticed the reek of strong alcohol around the Russian. He had probably been drinking heavily.<br>"Of course you have," Ivan said and sat besides Roderich, grabbing a glass from a cupboard and put it in front of the aristocrat, whereupon he poured some of the limpid liquid in it. "I was just a bit surprised to see you here and not in your room,_ da_."  
>"I felt kind of hungry and I could not find anything eatable in the guest room, hence I ended up here." Ivan shoved the glass towards Roderich.<br>"Have you eaten anything yet, then?" The aristocrat wrinkled his nose at the strong smell and looked into Ivan's eyes, feeling his stomach growl once again, loud enough for the other to hear, and blushed lightly. Ivan's smile grew wider. "I take that as a 'no'."  
>"I was not sure if I was allowed to eat any of your food," he said and bowed his head. The Russian laughed and pat the other on the back.<br>"That isn't a problem," he said cheerfully and encouraged Roderich to drink the alcohol in front of him. But Roderich declined and got up from his chair to find something to eat.  
>"You'll find some piroshky in the fridge~" Ivan sang and took a few more swigs of the Vodka.<br>"Thank you," Roderich said and walked to the refrigerator to find some of the Russian food. He found it and put a few pieces on a plate, grabbed a tissue from a box and put the plate on the table. He then looked doubtful, staring at the food as if he was analysing it.  
>"How do you eat these?" he asked, looking at the Russian, "with knife and fork, or…?"<br>"You use the fingers," Ivan smiled and put a hand on Roderich's shoulder, making the smaller nation shiver a bit. He didn't look pleased; he was not used to eat without cutlery.  
>"You shouldn't happen to have some cutlery I could use, do you?" The Russian shook his head and the other sighed. "I suppose it cannot be helped, then." He grabbed around the food, careful not to get hinds too dirty or greasy, and took a small, careful bite, slowly tasting it, while Ivan observed him. Roderich tried not to make a wry face as the taste wasn't familiar or pleasant, but failed tremendously.<br>"How does it taste?" Ivan asked, smiling widely. He looked like he had a sinister plan going on inside his head, behind the smile that was sinister as well.  
>"It tastes… different," Roderich answered, careful not to lie, "and not really the kind of food I would get replete in. My apologies." Ivan didn't look hurt but just got up and started strolling around the kitchen, all the time keeping an eye on the aristocrat. Roderich followed the other with his eyes, as well, as he put down the food on the plate again and cleaned his fingers in the tissue.<br>The atmosphere in the room started to get somewhat tense and slightly awkward as silence fell over both the nations. Unanswered and unspoken questions floated in the air, demanding answers. Roderich now tried to avoid Ivan's gaze as the tall man walked towards him, slowly and carefree. He stopped behind the smaller man, making him freeze for a second.  
>"Why don't you take a drink," the taller one said, the voice whispering, suddenly beside Roderich's ear and made him twitch a bit, "it can also make you full." Roderich swallowed a lump and looked down at the glass. He could smell the alcohol and shivered. He was definitely not used to such strong alcohol. He only drank red wine and that was only on very rare occasions; he probably wouldn't be capable of drinking the Vodka.<br>"Well?" Ivan said and got closer to Roderich, standing so close that their clothes brushed together and they could feel each other's bodies. The Russian's mouth was right beside the Austrian's ear and he felt how the smaller man shivered in his seat. "Drink it. It will do you good and relax your nerves."  
>"I… I can't. I don't drink that kind of alcoholic liquids. I only drink red wine and only at very rare occasions." Roderich said quietly, his voice nothing more than a whisper. Ivan got closer, leant against the man in front him and felt him give in to the weight. He let his arms slid around the smaller body and now directly talked into his ear.<br>"Drink it, I said. Do it." His voice was now commanding and quite scary, even though it was hushed. Slowly and with shaking hands, Roderich stretched his arm forward and grabbed around the glass and as he lifted it, he felt how much his whole body trembled. He raised the glass to his nose and took in the smell. It stung his nose. Ivan tightened his grasp and Roderich gasped lightly. The body heat emanated from the Russian and the Austrian could feel the heart beat slowly in the big chest. He felt a flush come across his face; he wasn't used to be this close to another person, except for Elizabeta.  
>"Would you… please make the distance between us a little bigger?" he whispered and felt his own heart beat as if it wanted to get out of his body. At first, Ivan didn't seem to have heard the other's word, and he was just about the repeat them, but then the Russian moved away from him and slowly sat on his own chair, watching the aristocrat carefully.<br>"Thank… you," the smaller man said, not wanting to look the other man in the eyes. Ivan didn't answer, but instead took another impressive swig of his Vodka.  
>"I'm drinking. You keep me company," he said in a voice that was very commanding and strong and made Roderich twitch in his seat. It took him a few seconds to obey, but as he did, he made sure to try and block out his olfactory and gustatory sense. Since he didn't succeed in doing so, he made a wry face at the incredibly stinging feeling and taste that seemed to get stuck in his throat. He gasped for air till the sting subsided and left him with just a slight pain in the chest. He then got up, suddenly feeling a need for grabbing the edge of the table to stand still and hold his balance, not really sure why he had gotten up in the first place. Out of shock, perhaps?<br>"I am very sorry, Ivan, but I will be taking my leave," Roderich said, his voice a bit husky from the alcohol, "I need to go home." Ivan tried not to grin cruelly as he answered with a voice that was supposed to be affirmative. Roderich then walked out into a hallway he assumed led to the front door. When he reached it, he turned around to look at Ivan. He still just sat there, in his chair, doing nothing.  
>The aristocrat placed his hand on the door knob, ready to open it and get out.<br>"I bid you farewell, Ivan," he said and sighed, looking at the door. "Although we are not the best friends, I am very sorry for you and your destiny." He pulled at the door knob. No reaction. He pushed it. No reaction. It took a few seconds before the chills found their ways down his spine and the sweat started to appear at his forehead. He turned around, his heart beating even more fiercely as he realized he was trapped.  
>"Ivan. Would you please let me out this instant," Roderich said and tried to remain calm and reasonable, as he met the Russian's gaze.<br>"No," the other said and stood up, slowly walking towards the smaller man. Although he was pretty far away, it wasn't possible to overlook the excitement and amusement in the other pair of purple eyes. The atmosphere instantly changed. It was like when a predator eyed its prey and the prey knew it couldn't do anything. A fearful atmosphere where the hunted would still do anything possible to try and escape. Roderich backed a few steps, hit the door and tried the knob several times. It wouldn't budge, no matter what he did.  
>"Ivan, I command you. You must let me out of here. Otherwise would be against the law and you know that." His hands became sweaty, slipped and hit the door. He felt himself panic. He was very much aware of the fact that Ivan didn't care much about rules or laws he himself hadn't made. Roderich also knew that Ivan found it fun to hunt down others. It was amusing for him to mock and hunt down the weaker and smaller than him. The Austrian silently begged that he didn't like to molest and abuse others as much as Francis did, because <em>that<em> was just too much. Roderich would die of shame if Ivan ever did something like _that_ to him. The stories he had heard about Francis and his quickly shifting relationships were incredible, unfortunately not in the good way. And he would rather not think about it right now. Right now, he had more important matters to take care of. For example, the Russian that was slowly getting closer to him, with eyes that glittered so weird and sinister.  
>"If you as much as touch me," Roderich said with a, hoped he, demanding and scary voice, "I…"<br>"You what?" snorted Ivan and laughed, suddenly only a few meters from the other. He stopped.  
>"I… I'll… I will make you fall! You will not be forgiven if you do anything to me," Ivan moved again, eyes glittering, now with fun and joy, feet moving quickly over the clear and polished floor, closing the gap between the two men.<br>"Oh, but you _do_ know that you ex-wife, your beloved Elizabeta, is a _rotten_ girl, who doesn't mind… _things_… happening between two men,_ da_?" His voice was now more like that of purring cat's, and he was only four steps away from the Austrian now. He stopped once again, eyeing his prey, enjoying this so much he nearly thought it should be punishable. Almost.  
>Although Roderich never had been this scared in his whole life, he couldn't help but notice how quick the other man could change his mood and voice. It was truly scary.<br>Roderich blushed at the words. Yes, he knew that. And yes, he had, more than once, been forced to decline Elizabeta's request of him doing something improper with another man, a certain man with white hair, red eyes.  
>"But surely, she will never get to know about this… will she?" said Roderich, not quite sure about what he should do or say, or if he even wanted to know the answer to his question. Ivan's sinister smile grew even bigger as he finally closed the gap between the two and looked down at the other man, standing so close he could see every stray of hair in Mariazell and every drop of sweat on the forehead.<br>"Well… will you stay here, with me, and become one with me?" Ivan asked, his voice still purring and, if it hadn't been for the situation, it would probably have been alluring.  
>"Ivan, I have answered that many times and you know very well that the answer will not change, no matter how you ask, what you demand or how many more times you may ask," Roderich answered and pressed further against the door when the Russian leant against him. It was very, very uncomfortable. The air around them was tensed with joy, angst, amusement and fear.<br>"Then," Ivan said and suddenly reached a hand out towards the aristocrat and tore away the jabot and made Roderich gasp, nearly scream at the action, "I have no other choice." He then grabbed both Roderich's hands with just one of his own and slammed it against the door, above the smaller nation's head, effectively having him under complete control. The Austrian gasped again and automatically tried to free himself, but of course without success. Ivan sent Roderich a gaze suddenly filled with what looked like contempt, anger, but also joy and amusement, and also, it wasn't mistakable, lust. The smaller nation froze and stared into those eyes, shocked and now more than ever fearing whatever was about to come. He was quite sure he had never seen lust in the violet eyes, not even when they looked at poor Yao.  
>He shivered violently, as Ivan slowly, carefully, unbuttoned his coat. The fingers were sure not to miss out on every touch available. His gloved fingers, surprisingly gentle, at least for the moment, stroked the aristocrat's shirt and skin whenever possible and made his victim shiver and tremble, much to his own pleasure. The sinister smile was soon replaced with a more serious expression, as he started working on the shirt and slowly exposed Roderich's pale and beautiful skin.<br>"Ivan, what is the meaning of this?" the normally quiet and reasonable man suddenly yelled when the bigger man carefully, lustfully stroked his flesh and stared into the other pair of violet eyes.  
>"Isn't it obvious?" the answer came in a whisper, that, combined with the touches, sent several shivers down his spine and gave him goose bumps all over the body. The air was shockingly cold at his skin and he whimpered, desperately trying to get out of Ivan's grasp. Without succeeding, he could only whimper and try to avoid the mild and soft, gloved fingers. His breath had become very fast and superficial, and he felt it as if though his heart competed in a race. It was painful.<br>Suddenly, he was forcibly turned around, his face now touching the door and he felt the Russian fidget with his coat, quickly and easily removing it from his body. As the clothing was tossed away, Ivan leant even closer against Roderich and whispered into his ear.  
>"You know what is about to come, don't you?" The words were purred, again, and it made Roderich shiver especially violently. He did not like this at all, but he couldn't help but admit that Ivan's voice could be quite… alluring. "You can stop it whenever you want, just say so."<br>"If… If I tell you to stop…" Roderich gasped, "You'll do it?"  
>"<em>Da<em>, of course," was the answer while a hand slid to the bare chest and started circulating, "but that means that you will become one with me, naturally."  
>The hand stopped touching and circulating Roderich's skin to give the smaller man time and space to think.<br>Even though something like this was going on, Roderich knew his answer wouldn't change. He refused to become one with Russia, with Ivan, and he definitely refused to let Elizabeta, or anyone else, hear about this. Even if Ivan was going to… to go even… further… in this, Roderich would not succumb and he would not break. He was a proud nation, a proud man and he wouldn't allow anyone, not even the biggest nation, to humiliate and disgrace him.  
>He bit his lower lip, unaware that Ivan saw it and smiled because of it. He could easily read the expressions the small man showed. He was like a book for children; easy to read and easy to understand. He very well knew that Roderich wasn't the man to succumb and give in to others, unless he could benefit from it in great ways.<br>"So that is how it is, _da_? Then I guess it can't be helped," he said and released the two smaller hands, only to press their owner's face firmly against the door. His own hands then quickly found the end of the other's shirt and the start of the trousers. He was rewarded with a high and surprised yell as he freed the man from belt and trousers and let them fall to the floor. He whispered into the aristocrat's ear again, nearly intoxicated by the sounds and noises that beautiful mouth could muster. His own breath got stuck in his throat as he let the words out:  
>"I assume you by now have realized that I am going to fuck you, and that it probably will be very painful?" The only answer he got was a miserable whimper, but that was good enough for him. He knew that the man beneath him never would beg, never lose his pride by doing so, and it was also clear to anyone that Roderich wasn't a man who would lose face against another. Therefore, he tried to silently cope with what he knew was about to come. Pain. He expected pain, and Ivan knew this.<br>In one quick, skilled move, he lifted Roderich by the shoulders and the hollow of the knees and looked down at him. The poor man whose pretty, violet eyes were filled with angst, fear and the desire to just die right here, right now.  
>"There is a room I want you to see," Ivan said, the voice again cold and not sweet or purring anymore, as he walked out of the hallway. Still carrying the terrified man, he succeeded in finding a cloth in a pocket and gave it to Roderich. "Tie this around your eyes. It's a part of my… let's call it <em>game<em>." Roderich was, of course, horrified but did as he was told with trembling hands, not daring to oppose the orders of the Russian anymore. When Ivan had checked that the cloth was firmly tied around Roderich's eyes so he couldn't see anything, he walked faster and smiled as he felt the other man's hands unconsciously grab tighter his arms, secretly afraid that the other would drop him.  
>"I won't drop you," he said.<p>

**Spelling errors? I am sorry. Grammatical errors? I am sorry. It's like half past three in the morning, and I have read this through two or three times to correct errors.  
>Please, don't kill me for this, eh? <strong>


	4. As Russia's wish seemingly comes true

**Yeeees, you can all feel it, can't you? The atmosphere, the tension between the two. It's going to be released! In one way or another. Or both. Muhahahah.  
>…. I'm being gross. Sorry. shot**

**There will probably be some OOC-ness here. My deepest apologies, ladies and gentlemen. **

None of them said anything while Ivan walked towards the room he had in mind. Roderich had no idea about what he was going to experience. Something scary and very painful, that was for sure, he reckoned. He didn't know what Ivan liked doing in his spare time, except for drinking, but it couldn't be nice.

His line of thoughts was suddenly interrupted as he was put on something not quite hard, but not quite soft either. It felt a little like leather. Now even more afraid of what the Russian had in mind for him, he stretched out his hands to cautiously touch and feel what he was sitting on.

Ivan laughed quietly, right beside him, and grabbed his arms, forcing them away from whatever he was sitting on.

"No," he said, his voice purring directly into Roderich's ear, and made his hands reach out to the grand, glorious object in front of him, made those slender fingers slide across the cold and hard plastic keys. Oh, how he couldn't wait to tear away the blindfold when his victim found out just where he was seated, almost completely naked, devoid of dignity.

He watched hungrily as the fingers began exploring and he didn't fail to notice the eyebrows that wrinkled as if the owner tried to remember something familiar, but from long time ago.

Ivan forced a little pressure on the index finger which made the key let out a high and clear sound, echoing in the room. Oh, the feeling of his Roderich twitching, finally realizing that he was sitting on a piano stool, in front of something that could almost only be a grand piano.

"Yes, touch it, feel it," Ivan whispered, very well knowing how lewd and coaxing his voice sounded, as he watched the Austrian's quick fingers press on different keys, letting beautiful sounds emanate from the instrument. Ivan didn't know if the other was playing an actual melody, but it sure was beautiful.  
>High and clear sounds, fingers not missing a single key, playing professionally the way only a truly skilled musician could.<p>

As he watched the fingers stroke and brush the instrument, he thought of how erotic it would be to have them touch him, to touch himself, Ivan. He wondered how such skilled and gently fingers would tickle and tease him. It would without doubt take his breath away.

Suddenly, not able to bear the beautiful sounds anymore, he grabbed Roderich's hands and made him gasp by doing so. He then pulled the musician to his feet and tore off the blindfold, seeing shock in those beautiful, pure and innocent violet eyes.

"A piano?" the small man mumbled. "Why?"

"Well, I guess you could say I have been wondering what your reaction would be if you ever were to be fucked on one." Ivan said, his voice almost painfully honest, but still with a slight hint of amusement. He laughed loudly at the expression of pure disbelief on the smaller man's face.

"You can't do that!" he practically screamed and looked at the piano while pointing at it as well, "that's an antique! Look at the gold on the edges!" The Russian waved off the argument with a gloved hand and grabbed around the thin, bare shoulders in front him, looking at the man very carefully, making sure to notice every bump and scar on the pale skin. The Austrian immediately stopped talking.

"I hope you do realize," Ivan said in a hushed tone while he abruptly pushed the other man in front on him and nailed him against the sides of the beautiful instrument, "that I can do whatever the fuck I want? Especially with you." He pressed the man's head against the wood. Carefully, of course, he didn't want either the man or piano to get scratches. Or. He would love to leave some bruises and scratches on the tiny Austrian in front of him, the man that drove him wild without even knowing it.

As he looked closer, he noticed just how perfectly the two things matched. Roderich was stunningly beautiful and so was the grand piano. They just fit perfectly together.

"Have anyone ever told you," Ivan whispered lustfully into Roderich's ear as he pressed his body against the other and felt him quiver, "how magnificently beautiful you are… particularly when you blush?" This wasn't quite true; Roderich wasn't blushing right now, but Ivan could pretty well imagine how pretty he would look when the blood rose to his cheeks.

"No," the other managed to say, eyes fixed as much as possible on the man behind him, "and I won't be captivated by you saying it."

"Well, be captivated by this, then," the Russian said, sinister smile at it's right place, as he tugged off the last pieces of clothes the aristocrat was wearing. Said man let out a howl of surprise and instinctively tried to cover his vital regions with his hands, but Ivan caught the fingers and pinned them to the top of the piano, making sure it would leave bruises.

Judging by the face the aristocrat made, it would _definitely_ leave marks; he gritted his teeth and closed his eyes tightly. 'Why does he have to be so bloody _strong_!' the shorter man thought and tried to fight the pain.

While the upper, gloved hand was gently stroking both of his hands, the other had found its ways to his nipples and started teasing them, hoping to get some kind of aroused reaction. But Roderich would never give Ivan that pleasure. He didn't find this arousing or pleasurable in any way. It was repulsive, disgusting, and it shouldn't find place at all. The hand pinched his nipples, twirled them around and pulled at them, really feeling the soft and smooth skin and trying to draw some kind of reaction. But he was denied this, as his… victim – he actually didn't like that word, but used it anyway – bit his lower lip, careful to not let even the smallest sound slip from his mouth.

"Hmm, playing hard to get, are we?" came the whispering sound of the Russian's voice as he purred into the other's ear. He felt him shiver underneath him and smirked.

"Just admit it, you really like this." He raised his free hand to his mouth and slowly, alluringly took off the glove with his teeth, knowing that the Austrian was looking, but quickly looked away again, face flushed. Even his beautiful ears became red and Ivan couldn't resist the chance of suddenly attacking his bare neck. He licked it, hungrily, added teeth, although being careful. Roderich whimpered and shifted uncomfortably, trying to get the pressure off his hands so he could push the other away.  
>The teeth hurt as they bit down into the soft flesh and they made him close his eyes tightly.<p>

Suddenly, all kind of pressure was lifted from him and he opened his eyes again, surprised, and cast a look above his shoulder. There, Ivan stood and started undressing. First, he let the long and heavy-looking coat fall, then his shirt, trousers, the belt, till he was only dressed in his underwear. He also let the other glove fall to the floor and then grabbed Roderich by the collarbone.

"Enough of this," he said and licked his lips, the voice husky, the sinister smile growing wider and his purple eyes shining. He turned Roderich around with more force than needed, and he shivered lightly at the gasp the beautiful person underneath him let out as his hands were once again pinned to the pianos lid. They were now in a position so they could look into each other's eyes.

The taller man's eyes reflected lust, amusement, joy and desire.

The smaller man's eyes reflected the complete opposite; fear, angst, shame and anger, perhaps, probably, even hatred.

The Russian leant forward, closing the gap between them. He grabbed the other's head and forced their lips together in a violent kiss.

"Ngh!" Roderich gasped into the kiss, trying to break it, but wasn't allowed to, as Ivan's tongue forcefully parted the lips and coerced his tongue inside the beautiful aristocrat's mouth. It was so hot, warm and wet; he couldn't get enough of it.

He pressed his body even more against the other, pushing him into the sides of the piano as he grasped around the smaller body. His breath got troubled as he didn't let go of that delicious mouth, but kept invading and exploring the cave. It was so very soft and velvet-like; it was terribly arousing, and Ivan felt his desire be awakened between his legs. Oh god, how could he feel like this from a mere kiss?

But now, he couldn't take it anymore. With enormous willpower, he pulled away from the kiss, shortly looked into the purple eyes that didn't emanate a single spark of lust or desire, but mere disgust.

"You know," Ivan gasped, highly affected by the kiss, "this is going to hurt as Hell," and without further warning, he shoved two fingers inside the Austrian's mouth and was rewarded with both a moan and a bite. Ivan's face was distorted with slight pain for a superficially moment, before he smiled wickedly and tugged off Roderich's underwear and, without letting him know in words, inserted a finger covered in saliva into him.

Roderich screamed and made a wry face at the shock and pain, but Ivan paid no attention to it. Right now, he could only think of how he wanted to pound into that beautiful person in front of him, he could only think of how wonderfully tight he must be. He had never believed himself to be so carried away by another man, maybe except for Yao. But this man, Roderich, was way better than the Chinese.

He inserted the other wet finger and the corners of his lips cringed upwards at the cry the Austrian let out as he, most surely unconsciously, grabbed the bigger man's shoulders, perhaps trying to push him away, and lolled his head forward, eyes closed tightly. His breath was quick and superficial.

"Roderich," Ivan moaned into his ear before biting down on his neck, leaving an instant mark of a strong set of teeth, "you are so delicious, you know that? Deepen your breath, relax; it will hurt less that way." The aristocrat shook his head and whimpered, not able to do so.

"No," he whimpered, still clinging to Ivan, his fingers tightening around the muscular arms, "Please… stop it. I… I can't take it."

"Too late," Ivan growled and positioned himself for entering with something else than his fingers. With one hand, he pulled down his underwear while the other tried to soothe Roderich by stroking his lips, gently touching the mole. It was easy to see that he was on the verge of crying. Ivan didn't care, he only had eye for the opportunity of nailing this gorgeous aristocrat.

He continued putting his fingers in and out of the tight ass, giving the muscles more time to try and relax, although it probably had the opposite effect and only made man more nervous and scared.

"Ready?" Already knowing the answer and therefore not waiting for it, he thrust his member into the tight entrance of Roderich Edelstein, who screamed, a shriek that went right to the marrow, the pain being almost unbearable for him.

Ivan moaned loudly as he only went in a little, slightly frustrated, and pulled out again before thrusting in another time, this time going in a little deeper and growled, his head thrown back. He wasn't that far in but he could still how the tight entrance clenched around him, desperately trying to deny him access. How damn delicious that man was, giving him so much pleasure without realizing it.

He picked up a quicker pace, going in and out of Roderich, every time widening the narrow and hot cave, every time getting deeper, till he felt himself being close to the edge, and went even faster, moaning and gasping, all the while looking at Roderich's face, his closed eyes and the tears sliding down the flustered cheeks.

He bent over, still thrusting in and out of the fragile man, his own heart beating faster and faster. The man underneath him had his eyes strictly closed, but tears were running down his cheeks and he whimpered tremendously, the breathing only perfunctory as he silently cried.

He let go of the Russian's arms and covered his face with hands, feeling filthy and dirty, not wanting to ever be looked at again.

This action, and the fact that the red, flushed face was still barely visible, made the end for Ivan come even faster, and suddenly, without warning, he exploded into the fragile, beautiful man, letting all of him fill him up, as he, Ivan, growled like a wild animal and thrust violently in and out, riding off his orgasm, as his world went white and fog encircled his mind. Roderich screamed and threw his head back in both pain and disgust, the sound muffled a bit by his hands.

"Nnnnnhg, fuck," the Russian cursed and thrust into that precious body a last time, before he put a hand on each side of Roderich's head to support his own body as it quivered fiercely.

His hair was sticky from sweat and his breath was quick and superficial. When he had been in that posture for a few minutes and he didn't tremble as much, he finally looked down at Roderich, who had lowered his slender fingers and let them dangle alongside his body.

At first, the pretty violet eyes were filled with tears that silently slid down the cheeks, and they showed all possible sad and negative emotions at once. Sadness, angst, disgust, grief, misery, pain, fear, hatred, shame, a slight hint of hostility.

He didn't move. Not even when Ivan finally pulled out of him. A quick glance down revealed that there was blood on his now slack member, and that a small line of blood seeped down the other man's thighs.

He then looked at the Austrian's face again, only just in time to catch him as he collapsed with a deep sigh and closed eyes.

"Hey," Ivan said, surprised and carefully sat the other on the floor, leant up against one the piano's legs, "Hey, Roderich?" The man, of course, didn't answer. "Shit." Ivan mumbled and got up, gathered the clothing that lay scattered near the instrument and covered the unconscious man with them.

He knelt down in front of him and gently shook his shoulder. He wasn't surprised when he didn't get any response and that the other didn't wake up, but it only made him feel worse.

"Shit," Ivan repeated and looked away. Right now, he couldn't bear to look at the aristocrat. He stood up again and slowly sat down by the piano, pressing a few keys.

What had he done? Even though he was perfectly aware of his forbidden act and that he had assaulted such a fine and innocent, gorgeous aristocrat who would never hurt him, Ivan, he couldn't really believe it. It wasn't like him. He had never actually thought he would do this.  
>Sure, the plan had been going on in his heads for a long time, weeks, actually, as he thought of it, but he had never believed that he would in fact do it, really conquer Roderich as he had done tonight. He had made Roderich become one with him, although not in the way he had first meant it, and definitely not in the way, he meant for every other nation.<p>

He felt horrible. He had inflicted such terrible damage on the person he most of all didn't want to hurt. There was no way this would ever be forgiven, of course not. Not by him, not Roderich himself, not Elizabeta – for Christ's sake, _definitely _not her – and not by anyone else. He would forever be known as the first of the incarnated countries that had raped another.

Soon, he was playing, yes, actually playing the piano. He would do nearly anything that could get his thoughts away from what he had just done. He focused on hitting the right notes, looking concentrated at the keys. It wasn't a happy melody, of course it wasn't. It was sad and slow, played in the darker tones. In a desperate attempt to get his thoughts off of the aristocrat besides the piano, he tried to play faster and make the instrument give away a more beautiful sound that wasn't so moody.

He failed. He couldn't take it; it was too much. The feelings caught up with him and he slammed both elbows against the keys, creating a horrible sound, as he covered his face in the hands and let a few tears escape his eyes and land on the keys.

"Roderich…."

**Sooooo… that was it. I bet it was horrible, badly written, not good and so on. But it's my first time writing like this, so I beg of you, don't kill me, ne?  
>Also, if I have offended anyone, I am truly sorry; I have no intention of doing such a thing.<strong>

**No matter what you think and feel about this, I'd be happy to get a review~**


	5. As others interfere

**Okaaaaaay… last chapter was very hard to write and so, this will not contain sexual themes. Sorry to disappoint you, haha. **

**There will be some non-English expressions and words. They will of course be translated at the end of the chapter. I will be using dictionaries and the internet, just **not** Google Translate (except for the Russian words, as I can't read Cyrillic), so I'm pretty sure they'll be sufficient. Should otherwise be the case, please inform me of it, okay~?**

**Also, I am **extremely** happy for the reviews I have gotten! Thank you so much! **

**EDIT: Thanks to "mimi 007" for pointing out a somewhat critical error! I apologize to those of you who had to read about a ginger-Gilbert with white eyes. XD**

It was night. The moon was full and sent its pale, white rays in through the windows, making everything look gloomy. The furniture got long and scary shadows, some of them looking like crooked fingers and mouths with sharp teeth, ready to snatch you out of your safety and consume you, eat you. The lights in the hallways made the paintings look bestial; even the picture of a pretty field with sunflowers got a dark aura and appearance.

The kitchen was not any better. The moon made the tables, chairs and appliances look like monsters creeping around, just waiting for an innocent passer-by they could attack and devour.

A small glass on the kitchen counter made a particularly good job in catching and reflecting the moon's rays.

And then there was a room in which the gloomy aura was mixed with a sense of strong hatred and misery. One of the big bathrooms on second floor. It was occupied and the sound of gentle splashes and water being filled into a tub bounced off the white, tiled walls. There were two men in the slightly depressing room. One with short, ash-blond hair and one with brown hair that made an unusual curl.

The man with brown hair lay in the bathtub with closed eyes and was covered in bubbles up to the neck. He looked like he was fast asleep. His lips were very slightly parted and the eyelids gently closed over the eyes. He nearly looked peaceful as he lay there in the hot water with the slender body covered in bubbles.

The other man slowly, carefully rubbed the pale but beautiful skin with a sponge. He slid it all over the slack body and made sure to rub every place he could reach and really clean him. He could probably need it. After all, it was very likely he would think of himself as filthy and polluted after Ivan's actions when he awoke. But that would be in another way. A way that could never be washed away.

Just by thinking of it, Ivan angered and squeezed harder around the sponge and pressed the water out  
>of it, only to let it be sucked up again when he put the yellow object down in the water.<p>

His mind was a mess. What he had done to Roderich was unforgiveable and should never have taken place. He felt terrible about it, about having defiled the precious aristocrat like that. He had committed a horrible crime, and he had a hard time thinking about how he should react when the Austrian eventually would open his eyes and they would find him, look at him, surely with pure pain, hostility and detestation. He would probably never talk to him again. Ignore him as well, most likely.

But as much as Ivan thought that would probably be the case, it would be unbearable. Never to have that beautiful and perfect shaped mouth say words to him, to never have any part of the body interact with him in any way. Ivan could not stand to think about that. He would rather never see Roderich again than being around him if he ignored him. He would never be able to concentrate at the world meetings if that was the case.

Suddenly, he heard the loud noise of feet running in the hallways and he turned around just in time to see a group of other people barge into the room.

"What… what the…?" Ludwig's vocally voice echoed against the wall and Ivan instantly motioned that he should quiet down out of consideration for Roderich, casting a quick gaze at him. The aristocrat's eyebrows wrinkled a bit, the mouth twitching, but he remained fast asleep.

Something was going on behind the group of people consisting of Ludwig, Gilbert and Francis. A highly extraordinary gathering. Ivan would never have expected these three to arrive together. Furthermore, if he ever was to guess who Ludwig would visit with, it would have to be always polite and deep Honda Kiku and the overexcited, pasta-loving Feliciano Vargas. Although Ludwig being with Gilbert wasn't unusual, either, as they were brothers.

The three men seemed to hold back someone and apparently, it took a lot of effort. They seemed to struggle quite a bit.

"Let me through!" a loud and extremely angry-sounding - female - voice came from behind their backs and finally, whoever it was, broke through the defence.

Although Ivan kind of had expected Elizabeta to show up sooner or later, he hadn't expected her to look like a psychopathic murderer.

Her face was red as a tomato and it was twisted with anger and, without doubt, the desire to kill. The long, brown hair almost crackled from fury. Her eyes shone with the uttermost disgust when she looked at Ivan's bare upper body, and when her eyes went to her sleeping ex-husband in the bathtub, they widened and she lifted her trusted frying pan high into the air.

Her eyes were almost shooting lightning at the Russian and as she walked towards him, the men - now behind her – only made a half-hearted attempt to stop her which of course didn't work.

When the hard metal weapon hit the man, it gave off a dull and quiet sound. Although Ivan pulled off a grimace of slight pain – that lady had really learned how to hit the perfect spot, probably practiced on Gilbert – Elizabeta didn't look satisfied, and so, she lifted the pan again, aiming for the same spot as before in the hope of inflicting even more damage and pain.

She apparently interpreted Ivan's face and him massaging his sore shoulder as "mission accomplished". She backed off, still holding the cooking device in a way which couldn't be misunderstood: she was indeed ready to hand out several more blows. She wasn't done with him, not at all.

The only thing that was heard was Elizabeta's rough and snorting breathing.  
>Ivan hadn't moved away from the chair he had been sitting on while bathing Roderich, but now, he stood up and took on a shirt whereupon he looked at the group.<br>Gilbert, Ludwig and Francis still stood together, all with crossed arms and no compassion in their eyes.

"You do know how much you deserved that, right?" Ludwig said in a harsh and cold, but still hushed, tone. He didn't want to wake up Roderich.

Ivan nodded while saying "_Da_, of course I do; I probably deserve more…" but was interrupted by Elizabeta that apparently took this an invitation and walked towards him, ready to deliver another powerful blow, this time aiming for the side of his head.

"Hell yes, you do!" she hissed, but just as she was about to swing her weapon, Ludwig grabbed her wrist and forced her arm down.

"If you really want to rearrange his face and anatomical shape that bad, I'm sure there will be plenty of time later, when we have heard the whole story," he said and sent a poisonous glare at Ivan.  
>He and Roderich may not the best friends and such, but they <em>were<em>pretty close and he enjoyed the aristocrat's company, so he would not let Ivan go unharmed for whatever he had done.

"But… but!" Elizabeta spluttered. Her face was still red and murderous as she tried to get free of Ludwig's grasp and hit Ivan, but not succeeding. He was, after all, stronger than her since he was a military guy. Not looking happy, she obeyed him and let her arm drop down alongside her body, still staring at the Russian, fuming.

"There, there, _ma chère_," Francis said in a soothing, calm voice and pat her shoulders, trying to pacify her, "take it easy. We can't all have and do what we want, _non_?"

"But this is something different!" Elizabeta snorted and now looked at the Frenchman, "He deserves to be beaten up!"

"I couldn't agree with you more," Gilbert said, opening his mouth for the first time since arriving. "No matter what Ivan has done to that prissy aristocrat, it can't have ended well, and even I would probably not do such a thing."

It was now Ivan's turn to snort and glance at Gilbert.

"Stop sounding so holy. I've seen how you sometimes look at Roderich; I'm pretty sure a lot, if not all, of your thoughts involve some kind of sexual act," he hissed and made gestures to tell them they should get out of the room. "Now, get out, I don't want you freaks to wake him up." He pushed them out into the hallway where he was surprised by seeing his older sister stand like she was waiting for him, or them, to come out.

She seemed very nervous to see them, or perhaps it was just the murderous look in Elizabeta's eyes that frightened her.

"You know very well that you won't have a brother at the end of the day, don't you?" the green-eyed girl hissed while she was being pushed forward by the other men.

"Now, now," Francis said and had quite a few troubles about staring into the poor girl's eyes and _not_ at her chest, "don't you worry, _ma chère_, your brother of course won't die." His hands jerked slightly and it was obvious that he really wanted to touch her, but even he apparently found this situation unfitting for such a thing, as he didn't do it.

That was quite a surprise to the others. Even Gilbert looked distracted by the girl's appearance. His eyes wandered between anything _else_ than her chest _and_said body part.

"Watch me try!"

"Shut it, lady," Gilbert burst out, took his eyes away from the poor girl and gave the Hungarian an especially powerful push that nearly made her fall, "we all know you are violent and quite skilled with a frying pan, though not in the kitchen where you rightfully belong, but you can't kill Ivan just with that. So shut it and move!"

Ivan sighed deeply while watching the group fight with each other as they moved. He looked at his sister, grasped her hands and looked into the big, blue eyes.

"You take care of Roderich, while I am being tied up with those four fools. Do everything our guest asks, except for letting him out of here. You understand, _da_?" The girl nodded and wanted to ask a question, but didn't get to since her brother already briskly walked after the others.

She watched him disappear before peeking into the bathroom, kind of curious about what she could expect. She gasped lightly at the sleeping person in the bathtub and blushed deeply, but nonetheless stepped into the room and sat down on the chair her brother had been seated on, her bust sure to make loud sounds at every possible moment.

_In the living room_

When Ivan reached the living room, the other had already taken their seats in a comfortable couch and an armchair. Ludwig, Gilbert and Francis didn't seem too eager to sit near the frantic Elizabeta so she sat in the black leather armchair, nearly smoking with anger, while the others were squeezed together in a deep blue couch.

They all turned towards Ivan when he entered. He considered his options for getting a seat. There was another armchair next to Elizabeta, which also meant the frying pan, but he wasn't stupid enough to choose that; he liked living. He could also take one of the chairs from the dining table.

In the end, he decided to just stand up and walk around the room. That seemed like the best option for him right now. He would probably need to release some steam and he did that the best when he stood up, preferably with a pipe in hand.

"So," he asked, trying to lift the unusually heavy and serious atmosphere a little by faking a happy and carefree voice, which everyone instantly saw through, "what are you all doing here?"

No one was surprised that Elizabeta was the first to answer with a hopping mad expression and voice while she leant forward in the chair, staring at Ivan, smacking the pan against her legs.

"We are here to kick your sorry ass for whatever you have done to Mr. Austria!"

Ivan stared back, suddenly able to muster a genuine cold and hard sheen in his eyes. It was so obvious that she thought she owned Roderich. Just because they had been married and been an alliance and all. That didn't mean she was the only one who could touch him, but that was certainly what she thought.

"I fully realize that you only are here to bash out my brain with that frying pan of yours because I have touched your precious man," he said coldly to her and slowly walked behind the couch, letting the fingers slide over the back, behind the two German-speaking men and the Frenchman. They turned their heads to follow his movements. "But why are you three here? Ludwig, you seem to be rather close to Roderich, as well. But Gilbert, Francis?"

"I am here because, as much as I despise that pan-wielding female demon, I don't like it when people are abducted, especially if it means I cannot molest or harass them," Gilbert said nonchalantly and sent a challenging look to Elizabeta who returned it with fire in her green eyes.

Ivan gazed at the golden-haired, blue-eyed man.

"Well," Francis said in his typically relaxed and soothing voice he often used to lure people in and have it his way with them, "I'm here to hear what's going on and of course to see sweet, _petit_Roderich~" He flipped his hair a bit and was rewarded with a glance from Elizabeta that could have made even Natalia Arlovskaya, Ivan's maniac little sister, notorious for desperately wanting to marry him, think twice about getting near her beloved brother.

Everyone loved gossip and Francis definitely wasn't an exception. He was known for being first with new gossip, and also for having stalked Roderich quite a bit. The others had found several pictures that Francis had taken of the Austrian, without him knowing. It was all kind of pictures; Roderich changing clothes, playing the piano, walking around in his house, doing the chores and so on.

When this was found out, Francis got a pretty big bump on his head, and the pictures were gone. Rumours had it that Elizabeta had taken them for herself and that she was the one who had smacked Francis.

Then Ivan turned to look at Ludwig.

"I'm here to both maintain control between those three," he pointed at Gilbert, Francis and Elizabeta, "and since I am rather close to Mr. Austria, I'm also here to check on him and to know what the hell you have done to him."

Ivan strolled around, slowly, very much knowing that the other watched his every move, ready to attack, or counterattack, should it be necessary. But he had no intention of fighting. At the moment. After all, his mind was still in quite a mess, and he was starting to get tired.

He looked at the clock standing in the corner. Nearly seven in the morning. No wonder he started feeling tired and a bit dizzy. He had been awake for almost twenty four hours. And he hadn't had anything to eat since…. Well, since the day he abducted Roderich, at the meeting.

He decided that he needed to eat something before being properly prepared for the enormous fight he sensed was about to come. And so, he called for Toris Laurinaitis, the oldest in the group known as the Baltic States.

"Toris~" he called out in a voice that was suddenly friendly and slightly childish as it used to be. Toris immediately came running from the hallway, barged in through the door and bowed before Ivan, who technically was his master.

"Y-yes?" he stuttered and trembled wildly, afraid of the Russian before him. He was very intimidating, the smaller one thought.

"Fetch us something to eat and drink, and do it quick, _da_~ Also bring something that fits a woman," he added and cast a quick glance at Elizabeta who looked highly offended by this, before he patted Toris' shoulder with a wide smile and sent him off.

"Yes, Mr. Russia!" Toris said before dashing out of the room.

When he was gone, Elizabeta turned to the Russian and said, in a voice that was forced to sound calm and friendlier than before:

"You know, I am used to both eat and drink like a swine. I often hang around Gilbert, after all,"

"Hey," Gilbert said and looked hurt, although it was an act, "I _can_eat like a proper human being. I just don't find it as entertaining."

"Sure, whatever, you twat," Elizabeta just answered and leant back in her chair while crossing her arms.

Silence fell over them for a few more minutes before they heard the sound of running feet and Toris entered the room, holding a silver tray with five plates and cups, a pot, two beers, a small bottle of wine and another small bottle of Vodka. He was also holding another tray with food.  
>Before running off again, he presented the content in the pot (tea) and bowed to Ivan.<p>

"Ah, I suppose the tea will be for you, then, _ma femme_," Francis said and reached for the wine along with a plate full of food.

"I suppose," Elizabeta said and though she didn't look happy about it, she poured some of the tea in a cup and also snatched a plate and began to eat.

Gilbert and Ludwig didn't seem to care about the food but just reached out for the beer, and Ivan grabbed the Vodka along with a plate when he walked by.

After finishing their meal, Ivan called for Toris once more and made him clean up, whereupon the often bullied person bowed again and dashed away.

"Say, Ivan," Francis said and leant back while patting his stomach,"care to tell us what he just ate? It was _absolument charmant_~"

"You just ate a common Russian cuisine called Pirozhki," Ivan answered and got up, now ready to talk, fight, discuss or whatever followed. He slowly walked towards a door in the corner of the room. He opened it, stretched his arm forward and withdrew it again. There was no change in appearance or personality, as he quickly turned around, hiding whatever he had picked up in the room. He smiled, only slightly sinister.

Francis looked like he wanted to say something more, but Elizabeta beat him to it.

"Enough chit-chatting," she hissed, "now tell us what the hell you have done to Mr. Austria!"

"Well, you could say that if you had beaten him up with your beloved frying pan, he would still be in a better condition than he is in now. Hell, he was even in a better state just when Gilbert had taken his vital regions away," he added and looked at Gilbert who couldn't avoid smirking, only to look deadly serious a few seconds later when he realized what the Russian actually said.

He, the most awesome being to walk on two legs, had found it hilarious to mock the aristocrat about the vital-regions-thing, but he also knew how tough it had been for the other. That would mean that right now, Roderich was in a terrible state.

"Elaborate that," Ludwig said, nearly commanded. Ivan's smile grew a bit. Just the type of reaction he would have expected from a soldier; short and precise.

"Why should I? You are clever people," Elizabeta snorted at that and looked at Gilbert, who didn't notice as he was studying the inside of a Pirozhki with a focused expression on his face; Ivan's corner of the mouth twitched unwillingly in a smile, "okay, three of you are clever, you should be able to figure it out."

"Just explain it already!" the Hungarian growled.

She left her chair, still smacking her frying pan against her legs, and slowly walked towards Ivan. Her steps were taken very slowly and almost carefully, as if she was afraid to break the floor beneath her. Her eyes were still, or again, filled with extreme fury. She looked just about ready to murder the man in front of him.

But then they got interrupted as Ivan's bigger sister walked into the room. She looked nervous and wrenched her hands. She stopped in the middle of room, looking at Ivan.

"Mr. Russia," she said, her voice shaking a bit, "our guest seems to be very uneasy about why he is bleeding from… from… where he excrete digested food, and he is also uneasy about why his back is so sore,"

The looks the tall man now received from the others could have made even Medusa turn to stone, or even make the notorious Basilisk drop dead right on the spot. Even Francis who up till now hadn't seemed very upset looked extremely stunned. Gilbert and Ludwig's faces wore expressions that showed they had never believed _that_would ever happen.

Elizabeta, on the other hand, looked like she had seen this come, and now she ran towards the Russian, frying pan lifted high into the air.

But she stopped a few steps from him, when he in a surprisingly quick movement withdrew a pipe from behind his back and held it out towards the woman, indicating that he would not hesitate to hit her as she had hit him.

"I don't mind hitting a woman, you know," he said, his voice being cold as the snow surrounding the house and as hostile as she was towards the white-haired person who still sat in the couch, "And I absolutely don't mind hitting her if it means I can have a certain person for myself."

Before any of them could say anything, Ivan looked at his sister who had just been standing there, and said:

"Go tell Roderich that it is completely normal. He probably doesn't remember yesterday. Tell him that both the pain and bleeding will stop in a few days and that there is nothing to worry about. I'll check on him in about an hour or so. If he isn't too tired, that is."

She nodded and ran off to pass on the information. Meanwhile, the other hadn't taken their eyes off of Ivan. They were genuinely stunned, and it would be pretty surprising if they weren't disgusted as well.

Elizabeta stood right before Ivan, held back by the pipe. She was indeed clever, she had already figured out what the Russian had done to her beloved ex-husband who she still had romantic feelings for.

"You… you…" she couldn't finish the sentence because she was so angry, so furious. Her hands trembled and she almost dropped her weapon. Words couldn't even begin to describe how she felt. It was unbelievable! She didn't particularly like Ivan; she was normally afraid of him, like everyone else, but right now, she only felt her body and heart shake in detestation; she really wanted to kill that fucking Vodka-drinking bastard in front of him.

He just looked coldly at her, the purple eyes suddenly two orbs of ice. He felt hatred, actual hatred, for the woman right before him. How pathetic. Thinking she could get Roderich all for herself. She was so stupid. She didn't deserve him; she wasn't good enough for him. She didn't know about art or playing the piano. It was even doubtful she knew what her frying pan was normally used for.

What had Roderich seen in her? Yes, their marriage had maybe only been because they could both benefit from it and save both their sorry asses, but it had been clear to anyone that he, Roderich, had actually really liked her, and that she had liked him. But why? She was only good at hitting and hurting people. What had she ever accomplished? What had she ever, with a pure heart, done for him, only for his sake?

They had both completely forgotten about the other three men as they stood there, staring at each other, wanting for the other to either die or disappear.

And then, Ludwig began to speak, very slowly and still shocked. His voice actually _shook_.

"You… you have abused Mr. Austria sexually, haven't you?" Ivan nodded, right now not caring about whether the other knew about it. "_Aber_ _warum_?"

"I wanted him to become with me. He didn't. I had to go to quite drastic measures to make him."

"Tell me, if he didn't want to, why did you force him?" This time, it was Francis.

Ivan had not in mind to answer, but still turned his head to the Frenchman and Elizabeta used his inattention to swing her pan and hit his shoulder again. Immediately, he swung the pipe and the blow to her ribs made her collapse to the floor, screaming in pain. She let her weapon fall as she put her hands to the hurt area, closing her eyes tightly.

Francis, Ludwig and Gilbert got up in a matter of seconds and ran towards the hurt woman, not thinking about their own safety but thinking about trying to help her.

"Ivan!" Ludwig yelled in both anger and shock as he carefully felt on her side. "You could have hurt her very badly! What if you have broken anything inside of her?"

"Too bad for her," was all that Ivan said and stared down at them, eyes imitating a pair of ice lumps. He really couldn't care less about how she was feeling right now. He needed to make it clear that he wasn't a horrible, perverted person who just raped persons because he felt like it. He had lost his mind when he did it.

He felt bad for it, of course he did. Hell, he would do almost anything if he could just rewind time so he hadn't assaulted Roderich like that. Why couldn't they understand? Why could they not understand how he felt about it, that he wasn't just a ruthless person? Sure, he could be a little cold sometimes, and not act like other people would, but he had always done things his way, whether others liked it or not. No need to change that now, was there?

"Elizabeta," he then said and took a few steps forward, so he stared directly at her. She looked up, the green eyes filled with tears, pain and anger. She snarled at him, but he didn't care. "When you hit me, both in the bathroom and now. Why did you do it? Because you hate me, that's obvious, but why do you hate me?"

"Oi oi, _ruhig_, big boy," Gilbert said, "you already know why. You touched her man."

"If I wanted you to answer, I would have addressed the question to you. Mind your own damn business, _mudak_!" he hissed and although Gilbert didn't understand the Russian word, the gesture the man did clearly showed that he wouldn't hesitate to hit again. "Why?"

"But he is right. You touched Mr. Austria, and he is too nice for you to lay a hand on. He is _mine_and should be touched by no one else!" she answered, now sounding slightly confused, but definitely still mad.

"That attitude. It is exactly the way I feel, too." It was a mere whisper, but he knew that they could all hear him. Now, he had said it. He had said what he never thought he would ever say to anyone. He would have kept it a secret, only letting his heart and Roderich know of it. Now that idea was crushed, not possible. It had only taken a few seconds for him to say and no greater thought of it before the words escaped his lips.

What would they do? Back off? Hit him, try to murder him? No, they would not murder him. They could not. They needed the great and mighty Russia, Ivan Braginski, could not do without him. That comforted him a bit. He was technically safe.

Now, he just blabbered on, with no thoughts at all.

"Yes. You are not the only one who sees Roderich as your personal belonging. I do so, as well, and I have done for a long time, did you know that? No, of course you didn't. You are too blind, not using your eyes as much as you should. Sure, you see it when other people do 'inappropriate' stuff to or with him that he doesn't like, and you act mad or irritated, wanting to crack open their skull. But it's only an act. Secretly, you wish you could record it and then watch it over and over again. You are a rotten girl who likes sexual interactions between men, everyone knows that. Well, he didn't like this, I admit it, but it was a sexual interaction; shouldn't you be delighted to know that?"

Ludwig, Gilbert and Francis were stunned. So was Elizabeta, but she wasn't dismayed enough to forget the main point in this: Ivan had been molesting Mr. Austria – _her_ man – and the taller person with the scarf and big coat in front of her could say whatever he wanted; she may like it when two men did so-called "inappropriate" stuff with each other but that didn't mean that she liked the thought – and now, also the knowledge – about Ivan _abusing_the aristocrat.

She tried to pacify herself by breathing deeply and let the air find its way all down to the stomach. She shivered but managed to reach out for her frying pan besides her, and with difficulty, she got up, holding one hand to her rib cage, the other firmly grabbing around the handle on the cooking device.

He wouldn't get away with this!

Although the three other men tried to hold her back, she succeeded in delivering a – weakened – blow to the man that had just opened his very heart to them, showing them his human side.

He was, of course, surprised by this, and his immediate reaction was simply to swing the pipe which hit Elizabeta, once more in the ribs. Only, this time, it wasn't possible _not_to hear the sound of breaking bones.

The scream the woman let cross her lips was a high tone that made shivers crawl down the spines of Ludwig, Francis and even Gilbert. They shivered. She still stood up, although it seemed to cause her a lot of pain.

"Ivan!" the German yelled and suddenly got out a gun from his trousers. He pointed it directly at Ivan's face.

The Russian was furious. What the hell was their, and especially Elizabeta's, problem? Here he was, turning himself inside out, showing them his deepest feelings, emotions and secrets, and then that bitch decided to bash him? Just how insane was that devil? He would show her!

The anger in him took over, sadness and sorrow forgotten, hidden tears left in favour of boiling blood.

"How dare you!" he yelled, raised the pipe again and was ready to hit her, but now, Francis grabbed his hand, desperately trying to stop him.

"_Halte là_, Ivan!" he said but was knocked back by the other man's fist that hit right in solar plexus. The Frenchman collapsed on the floor, all breath taken away from him.

"It is not you I want to hurt, so stay the hell away!" He swung the pipe again, aiming for the already hurt woman who just stood there, not able to move, and sure, the cold metal weapon hit something, someone. But it wasn't Elizabeta.

It was Gilbert. The Prussian had thought quickly and had jumped in front of the Hungarian to save her from further damage and pain.

It had resulted in a couple of broken teeth when the pipe had met his cheek, and when he had picked himself up from the floor, Gilbert wiped some blood away from his lip. It was cracked.

He spat on the floor, another tooth following suit.

"This is enough, Ivan," he said and sounded weird because of the missing teeth, "We fully realize what you are saying and how you feel. But you must understand that Elizabeta feels threatened! You have been banging her ex-husband _against his will_! It is only reasonable she's pissed!"

"Look at it from my point of view, _pridurok_! How do you think _I_feel? How do you think this is for me? It is not easy, let me assure you of that!" He moved closer to them. Eliabeta fell when she tried to move and her face was distorted with pain as she collapsed, but was grabbed by Gilbert, mere centimetres from the floor. Ludwig stood a little away from them, his gun still in hand and pointing at the Russian's face.

"Hurt one of us again, Ivan, and I swear I'll pull the trigger," he hissed, eyes glittering with anger. They were met by two cold and violet orbs.

"I don't need to. I think I have made my point very clear," he answered, voice freezing cold. "I see Roderich as mine. So does Elizabeta. If she so hysterically wants him to be hers, I'm willing to make a bet."

He turned to look at the Hungarian, who lay on Gilbert's lap. Her face looked like no blood came to it; it was white as a sheet and it seemed like she had troubles keeping herself awake.

He didn't care right now. He was befuddled with anger and fury and could actually feel how much the pipe in his hand trembled.

He forced himself to calm down, just a bit, and speak with in a nice and, relatively, friendly tone.

"Let him stay here for some time. You will have to do his work, or find someone who can. I'll promise to treat him nicely and properly. No abuse, no sexual harassment. I won't do anything to him – unless he should want to, although it, most likely, of course, will not happen. When the time is up, he will be faced with the following ultimatum: he can choose you or me. Should he choose you, then I for good won't do anything to him at all. You can have him all to yourself. You and I, Miss Elizabeta, won't be friends if that happens, but given the circumstances, I kind of think we never will be anyway. But; should he choose me, then _you_ have to let go of him. Then it will be _you_ who have to give him to _me_, and then _you_can't do anything to or with him. What do you say?"

He looked down at her. The baleful smile was back in its rightful place. He lifted the pipe again and the other reacted immediately. Gilbert covered Elizabeta the best he could, Francis – who had gotten up – took cover behind the couch, and as an exploding-like sound was heard from the German, it was clear that he actually _had_pulled the trigger. But Ivan just let the pipe fly through the room and hit the wall in the other side where it left a deep crack; he hadn't intended to hurt them. Not this time.

He was bleeding from the right arm. It was only a small wound, though; Ludwig hadn't shoot to kill, only to warn.

Ludwig looked shocked as he lowered his arm and the gun.

"I… I… _Entschuldigung_. I thought you would hit again, so I…"

"It's okay, Ludwig," Ivan interrupted and cast a quick glance at the military man before turning to Elizabeta again, "it's my fault. I shouldn't have made that threatening gesture right after your warning. But now I want an answer from our little Hungarian here."

There was a long pause where everyone – including Francis – just stared at the hurt woman. She looked anxious, and tears poured down her face.

Her features were twisted with agony as she opened her mouth and began to speak.

"It… it is not fair…. If he… stays with you… the whole time."

"Why not? If he really loves you, it shouldn't matter if he stayed here for a while," Ivan answered and knelt beside the woman. Her hair halfway hid her face, and he reached out a hand to put it behind her ears so he could see her clearly. She gasped lightly which made the pain slightly stronger.

She didn't answer. The other men didn't say anything, either. Gilbert wiped blood away from his lips with the backside of his hand every now and then; his pale skin was slowly coloured almost the same dye as his red eyes. He was angry as well, of course, but didn't really feel the torment. Ludwig and Francis stood still, not doing or saying anything.

Ivan got up and the movement made the other twitch.

"Well, I assume that silence is consent. For the next six months, Roderich will be staying here. He will not know of this being a bet between you and me, Elizabeta. Likewise, he will not know that this has ever taken place. Now, get out of here, and don't you dare tell anyone what has happened here. Should you disobey me, I will found out; trust me in that. And then it will be _very_painful, I promise."

With those words, he left the room and went on his way to the bathroom where he assumed he would find the aristocrat. He needed to talk to the man. Right now.

**Yes…. Ivan turned out a little… brutal and violent this time. I made two editions of this chapter. One where he was sensitive and sad, showing human feelings and all that. And then this one. I had a really hard time choosing between them, and I'm still not sure I made the right choice. But oh well. I figured Ivan has been sensitive and emotional enough for now, so I decided to pick the more violent edition. Hope it suits you!**

**Translation time~**

_absolument__charmant_ = absolutely splendid/wonderful (French)

_ma femme_ = actually "my woman", but I prefer "my lady" (French)

_petit_ = small/tiny/weak (French)

_ma __chère_ = my dear/my dear friend (towards a woman/girl) (French)

_non_ = no (French)

_Aber __warum_ = but why (German)

_Ruhig_ = easy (preferably "take it easy") (German)

_mudak_ = asshole (Russian)

_Was_ = what (German)

_Da_ = yes (Russian)

_Pridurok_ = idiot/bastard/moron (Russian)

_Entschuldigung _= sorry (German)

mimi 007


	6. As thuoghts and actions are mixed

**Brutal/violent Russia – nehnehneh~**

On his way to the bathroom, he made sure to let everyone in the house know how mad he was by stamping his feet, making the floor whine and creak under his weight.

When he was about two or three meters from the door, his sister opened and looked out in the hallway. When her eyes found him, she gasped lightly and got out, and the aristocrat inside made a surprised sound. So he was awake.

"Mr. Russia, I… What happened?" she interrupted herself as she saw the wound on Ivan's arm.

"Pay it no attention. Go down in the living room. You will find that one of our guests is damaged. Help her, if you like, but don't ask any questions. Don't answer any questions. And should you think about coming here afterwards or just later – don't do it," he finished and looked deeply into her big and confused, pretty eyes for a few seconds before his hand grabbed around the knob and he pushed the door open.

The aristocrat was still in the tub. He turned his face towards the new person and the instant the body and face was recognized, he gasped and tried to get as far away from him as possible, although he couldn't – or didn't want to – get out of the tub. He just pushed himself more against the edge.

"You!" he howled, the sound bouncing off the walls.

"Who else had you expected?" the Russian answered, voice cold and harsh. He closed the door behind him and locked it.

The Austrian looked pretty anxious by this, but it was nothing compared to the other emotions that fought each other in his eyes. The same as always. Misery, pain, confusion, hatred, shame.

"Could… could you please unlock the door?"

"_Nyet_." was the short and chill answer as the owner of the voice grabbed the back of the chair in front of the bathtub, turned it around and sat on it backwards. He rested his arms on the back of the chair and looked at the other man.

He was still gorgeous. He hadn't let the water touch his hair, and Mariazell still stood up. The skin so pale, except for the face. This part of him was a strong nuance of pink which made him even prettier. And although his purple eyes looked at him with all those emotions, they were as charming as ever.

Ivan had no intention of waiting. He was mad, yes, but he would not let that stop him.

"How are you?" he asked, lowering his voice a tad. He made sure to observe every gesture and expression the other man pulled off.

Confusion and mistrust.

"Horrible."

"Would it help if you got out of the water and into some warm clothes? I trust the water has become cold by now."

"…Probably." The Austrian was not at all sure about what was going on here, but he was positive that it couldn't be good. Judging from the night before, he…

He looked away from the tall man. It was no good to dwell about it. He just needed an explanation.

"How much do you remember from yesterday?" This question came as quite a shock for him. He had somewhat expected the Russian to let him get out of the cold water and to give some warm clothes, according to the previous question.

"I'm sorry?" he said, wanting to know if he had actually heard correct.

"How much do you remember from yesterday?" The exact same question. He had heard correct.

"… I remember everything," he then whispered, head bowed and voice quiet. Yes, he indeed remembered everything that had been going on this night. He could even see the lust pictured in Ivan's face, but he did not want to. He drove out the image, shaking his head lightly.

"What do you want now?" the Russian now asked, absolutely not following the normal human's way of explaining or elaborating things.

"What?"

"You heard me. Answer."

"I…"

What did he actually want? Sure, he wanted to get out of here faster than Gilbert could down a liter of beer, and never mention this again. But he also wanted to know why Ivan had done it. He had one reason, indeed, but just becoming one with the other? Was that really all Ivan wanted? And would he really do such drastic things, such as… rape – the Austrian swallowed, not wanting to use the word – to accomplish his goals?

But then again. It _was _Ivan, the most feared and mighty of them all. He probably didn't need another reason than that. He was also kind of sadistic. It would look like him to do such a thing.

The aristocrat looked into the two violet pools and was surprised by seeing something like… could it really be resentment and sorrow? In those normally strong and cold eyes? Was it really possible for human emotions to find their way to this person and make them shine through so clear?

He held his breath for a few more seconds before he slowly stuttered:

"I-I want to know exactly... why you did as you did... tonight."

"I wanted you to become one with me. Isn't that clear as the ice covering water in the winter?"

"It sure is, but I think… I... I think there is another reason behind."

"Why would you think that?" Ivan asked, his voice being cold as the Siberian winter and got up from the chair in such a haste he tipped it over. The banging noise startled the smaller man and made him twitch in the tub. The water splashed about and some seeped over the edge of the tub and made the carpet under it wet.

"Why would you think there was another reason than simply the one than I want you to become one with me? Do you have a reason to think that I am lying?" His voice. Loud. Scary.

"It's just… Your eyes reveal there is... something going on inside you. Other things... than the eternal hatred you always show."

Silence for a few minutes, the atmosphere tensioning up a bit.

"You sure have a lot of courage, aristocrat. Saying such things to the biggest man you know, to the man who has just raped you and made you crumble under his touches. You even have significant bruises."

He pointed them out on his arms.

The words made Roderich flinch and he bowed his head, turning his head away from the Russian. He knew that. He didn't need to be told what he had been exposed to!

He ignored the short struck of anger and talked to the other man again.

"I know what you did last night, Ivan. My mind remembers and my body most certainly do as well. All I want to know is why you did it? It can't just be because you wanted me to become one with you."

He received a long and hard glance for this comment. The purple orbs were growing colder and colder, the human in him slowly melting away.

"Why would there need to be another reason?"

"Well, even though you are a big and mighty man and all that, and even though you are known for being tough as a diamond, although far from as pretty, I'm sure there are human feelings and emotions behind the facade," the Austrian answered and hugged his knees, his face wincing at the pain it caused.

Ivan just stood there, looking at the small man, feeling his anger slowly build up again.

"You don't know anything about me, mister always-high-and-mighty!" he hissed, narrowing his eyes.

Roderich couldn't help but smile, despite the situation he was in.

"Oh, but I do, Ivan. I do. Do you remember that day you brought me here? When I woke up, you kind of lost your senses and started yelling, you told me about your childhood, how you have felt all your life, and…"

His words were cut off as Ivan grabbed around his throat and lifted him high into the air, anger taking over. His eyes were now wide open, but the pupils in them were so small they nearly weren't there. He looked mad.

"Do not dare talk to me about that incident! It is never to be mentioned again, you hear me?"

"L…Let go…" Roderich hissed, his face slowly loosing blood and air. Ivan shook a few seconds, gritting his teeth, before putting Roderich down on the wet carpet.

The water ran down the slender body, and Roderich shivered. It was cold standing here. His neck hurt and it was still hard to breathe. He coughed. The pain in his back was tremendous, but he kept standing.

He felt on his neck, almost feeling the bruise the big hand had left.

"My… My apologies for bringing it up," he mumbled and turned his back to the other man, wanting to get some clothes on.

Ivan just snorted and threw a towel at his head.

"Dry yourself. You are no good if you are sick," he said and crossed his arms, still looking away from the other. "I'll get you some clothes." He then left the room, making sure to lock the door again.

Roderich was confused out of his mind. What the heck was that man's problem? Why couldn't he just talk and be open about it? It was probably his pride. Like Vash. Vash was also very proud and even when he felt bad or sad, he would never ever let it show, let alone talk about it. The things humans were able to hide to maintain their pride...

He slowly stroked the towel against his skin, drying himself with gentle movements, every bone in his body hurting like wildfire. It was a somewhat soothing feeling, the incredibly soft towel that caressed his skin. He sighed deeply and then waited for Ivan to bring him some clothes. He sat down on the chair, covering himself partly with the towel. He still had some dignity, despite the awkward situation. He closed his eyes. The pain, oh Gott, the pain...

He started thinking. How long was he going to stay here? A few days, weeks, perhaps a couple of months? He was scared. Scared and afraid. Afraid of the Russian and what he knew he was capable of. He was scared that he would never see Elizabeta again. It would be dreary never to see Ludwig again, and he would probably end up missing even Gilbert's noisy and otherwise annoying behavior.

Would the others be looking for him? Would they start searching for him, trying to find out what had happened to him? They probably would. But another question then caught his attention. If someone really _did_ go look for him, if someone really _was_ going to find and save him, they for sure wouldn't be let in, neither by Ivan or his maniac little sister. They would surely hinder them in getting in, no doubt about that. The big sister would never be let near the door. She was too kind and not able to make people leave.

He felt cold. So cold and alone, despite knowing there were many caring persons in this house. Ivan's cute older sister and the three Baltics. Although he didn't know them, he was pretty sure they were friendly and not hostile as the Russian was.

But he felt alone. He didn't know anyone living in this house. He normally didn't talk to either Ivan, his sisters, nor did he talk to, let alone know, the Baltics.

He had stopped drying himself. He found himself looking down at his pale, naked feet with their long, slender toes. He had always hated his toes. They were so… he didn't know how to describe it, he just found them repulsive. He preferred his fingers, he liked his fingers. Also long and slender, but much more beautiful and useful.

He led them into his field of vision and looked at them. The only thing that didn't hurt. Their gentle and slow movements when he did nothing special fascinated him, calmed him. Their fast end precise movements when he played the piano took his breath away. Without his fingers, he would not be happy. He needed to be able to play his wonderful piano and his violin. He would be nothing without his music.

He sighed deeply and raised his head, looking at the door and hoping Ivan would come back soon.

Ivan was furious. How dared that prissy aristocrat question him like that! He should know better! That man knew what he, Ivan, was capable of and how violent he could be. He sure did have a lot of courage, being able to talk to him in that way. He would pay for this later, yes, he would!

But how? How was he going to make Roderich regret the way he had spoken to him? Abandonment? Harsh words? … Pain?

The corners of his mouth curled upwards, forming a wicked smile on his face. Yes. Pain. Roderich couldn't withstand pain, he hated it. Even the smallest wound made him all teary and miserable. All the more reason he had passed out last night. Made sense now.

He turned left at the end of the hallway, walked to another room and gathered some clothes he thought would fit the other. It was not Roderich's usual standards, but he would have to get accustomed to it. Or he could walk naked around the house.

'Not that I would mind it, though' Ivan thought to himself and the smile grew, as he walked back to the bathroom.

His steps became slower when he could see the door. He may be angry, mad, _furious_, but he was afraid he would take it out on Roderich, and although he was sure pain was the right way to gain total control over him, now wasn't the right time. He needed… time… to make Roderich trust him, just a little before going on with his plan.

He had reached the bathroom-door and unlocked it. The smaller man inside instantly turned his head, placing a hand over the towel to make sure that his vital regions were fully covered. He blushed lightly, feeling a little embarrassed, but not entirely sure why.

"Yo…you're back," he mumbled and looked away.

"Da. I have brought you some clothes," the other answered and put them on the sink. By accident, he looked at his arm and saw how the wound had gotten a little bigger and the blood continued to seep. It was impressive the aristocrat hadn't noticed it and not mentioned it.

He grabbed the towel, took off his shirt and pressed the towel against the wound, watching the white fabric absorb the blood dyeing it a deep red.

Roderich looked like he was going to puke.

"What, you've never seen blood before?" Ivan snarled and removed the towel to inspect the wound. It was still bleeding profusely. He sighed and said something in Russian the other didn't hear and tied the towel around his arm.

"N-Not that much," the other whispered weakly, face going back to the normal pale nuance.

"Nonsense. Of course you have. You have been in wars, so of course you've seen this much blood and probably even more." Ivan snorted and looked at the other. His face and voice changed from hard and cold to more relaxed and sad.

"Well, that may be so, but that doesn't mean I'm totally excited by the sight of blood," Roderich mumbled and turned around, not wanting to look at all the blood.

"Pansy," came it from the other who had leaned against the door frame, looking at the other's back.

He got a little angry again. He wanted answers, damn it! He wanted to know why Ivan had done that to him.

"Ivan, you better answer me now. Why did you…. Why did you r…rape me?"

"I already told you." The answer came almost before Roderich had finished his question. "I wanted you to become one with me, and since you didn't want to form a contract of alliance with me, I figured that would be the only way." He tried to push back the emotions that suddenly overwhelmed him.

He suddenly wanted to say the truth. That he loved him, Roderich, and how he had loved him for such a long time, how he had always sent secret gazes at him at the meeting. He had made sure that he and Yao would be placed close to each other at the meetings, so everyone would think he was looking at Yao when he was actually looking at Roderich.

He wanted to tell this to him. But he couldn't. He couldn't let himself be any more vulnerable than he already had been. He was supposed to be strong and mighty; he couldn't allow himself to show signs of vulnerability.

"I already told you, so stop asking me," he repeated and turned to walk out of the bathroom, when suddenly, he felt a hand grab around his arm, hesitantly and kind of weak, yes, but it was there. He turned around, surprised, and saw Roderich stand there, of course, who else, with his arm stretched out and his hand placed on the other's arm.

"Ivan… stop giving me that… that dung. I know there is another reason! It shows in your eyes. Please, tell me why." His eyes were met by two purple orbs where he could see so many emotions whirl around. So many emotions he had never expected the other could show.

Ivan avoided his eyes. He didn't want to let the other know. He already knew far too much. He had seen him break apart and be so weak. He didn't need to see any more of that.

"_Nyet_," he then answered, "you've already seen too much. You've seen me…. You have been lucky enough to see the biggest man crumble, break apart. Isn't that enough for you?"

Roderich bit his lips.

"It's not like it was pleasant to…. To witness that incident, you know. It was actually quite frightening and I don't want to experience it ever again. But now, I want to know exactly why you acted as you did the other night. There simply has to be another reason that just the alliance-thing."

"There. Is. Not." The other said, making a pause between each word. He looked angry again. More angry than anything else. "I raped you, simply because I wanted you to become one with me. That's all… there is to it." He said it out loud, to assure the other that this was the truth, but also starting to make himself want to believe it. How suddenly his mood changed.

"I don't believe-"

_Smack_.

Ivan had hit Roderich in the face, slapped him, and a red hand-shaped mark already started to appear on his cheek. He stood like that for a few seconds, showing the side of his head to the other, before slowly turning towards the Russian.

He looked furious. His eyes were once again glistening with anger and he had already lifted his hand for another hit.

"I said, _Roderich_, that there is no other explanation, nor another reason, for that act. It was purely a matter of alliance. It is now fulfilled, and you will have to stay here for a long, long time. You will never see your beloved Elizabeta again. Neither will Ludwig or Gilbert be talking to or with you. Shortly speaking, you will not see any of those you know for a very long time. You are, though, allowed to walk around the house, again with the exception of the study, _khorosho_?"

Roderich wasn't given time to react before Ivan was out of the room, having tossed the towel on the floor, the white fabric dyed an even deeper nuance of red. Roderich looked at it for a few seconds before turning away, not able to look at it. It sickened him.

He slowly walked over to the sink and looked at himself in the mirror. He gasped and instantly took several steps back, almost stumbled over the towel. When he had regained balance, he looked down himself. The mirror didn't lie. He really _was _covered in bruises and a few actual wounds, although they didn't bleed. Ivan sure had been rough to him…. He didn't remember anything about such tremendous pain these marks surely must have brought with them.

With shaking limbs, he got into the clothes Ivan had gotten for him – not his style; it was a blue sweater and a pair of red pants; but he put it on either way and walked out into the hallway, not really knowing what he should or wanted to do.

He therefore just walked around for about ten minutes, walking very slowly because of the pain in his back, before he reached a door he didn't remember. He opened up and the moment he stepped inside the room, he was overwhelmed with high and angry voices.

"I already told you scumbags to leave, didn't I?" Without doubt, it was Ivan's voice that resounded in the living room. He sounded mad. Really, really mad.

Roderich dared, against all his instincts that told him to not give a fuck and just run for it, to look inside and found a shocking sight.

Elizabeta, Ludwig, Gilbert and Francis sat close together near a window, looking frightened at the man in front of them. His normally pale face was red as the blood his wound still bled, and he was yelling and, probably, cursing in Russian. His older sister stood beside him, desperately trying to calm him down. Tears were falling from her eyes and her cheeks were flushed.

Roderich was shocked to see the pained expression on Elizabeta's face, the blood drooling from Gilbert's lips, Ludwig with a high-held gun, ready to shoot if necessary, and Francis' scared expression.

He let the door wide open as he stepped inside and looked at the other.

"Ivan…" he whispered, drawing the attention towards him. Ivan had apparently not heard, 'cause his face showed surprise when he turned around. It then turned to a more sinister and insane smile as he grabbed Elizabeta by the arm and dragged her forward, making the other roar and try to get her back, with no luck.

She screamed in pain, a high-pitched tone that went right to the marrow and made Roderich shiver, as she tried to keep up with the Russian. When he let go of her hand, she stood so weird. Bent to one side. Her hands were pressed at her rib cage, and she cried, actually cried. Roderich had never seen her cry, not like that.

"E-Eliza… Lizzie?" he whispered, going towards her, shocked, momentarily forgetting his own pain. She looked at him, opened her eyes, by his voice. "What happened to you?"

She just turned her eyes towards Ivan who stood right beside her, still smiling his sinister smile. Roderich looked at him, feeling the anger rise inside him.

"What have you done to her, Ivan?" he asked, voice low but still very audible. Nothing else was said in the room.

"Broken a few ribs," he said, sounding happy, like a children that was being praised, "but it's only about three or four; she'll manage," He then walked over to his sister, the smile melting away while walking.

"Sure," Gilbert then mumbled and wiped some more blood away with the backside of his hand, "it's only about a quarter or a third of her ribs in that side,"

"She will manage," Ivan repeated, sending the ex-nation an annoyed look before talking with his sister. "Why are they still here? Didn't I explain it well enough? They should be out of the house, away, at their own places!"

"But, Mr. Russia, they wouldn't leave," the poor girl said, tears still streaming down her cheeks, looking very uneasy, "they said they didn't care about the pain, that they wanted to take Mr. Austria with them, and…"

Ivan instantly silenced her by lifting a hand and look to Ludwig, Gilbert and Francis.

"Is that so~?" he nearly purred, slowly walking over to them, not caring about Elizabeta or Roderich anymore. "But, I think I made it perfectly clear what pain you would all sustain if you didn't get out of here, didn't I?"

"_O-Oui_, you did," Francis stuttered, looking utterly afraid, shivering lightly.

"Then, why are you still here?" he asked, smile growing bigger, pupils narrowing, making him look more mad than normally.

"We… we demand Roderich goes with us," Ludwig said and stood up with shaking legs. He still pointed the gun towards the Russian, looking both scared – which was a highly unusual expression on his face – and anger, determination. "We won't leave voluntarily without him."

"Then," Ivan said and walk over to him, picking up the pipe on his way, swinging it from side to side, looking at the German, "I guess you just won't be leaving voluntarily!"

"Mr. Russia, please, _nyet_! Don't hurt them more!" his sister begged, tears streaming down her face.

The sound of the pipe that hit Ludwig echoed in the room. His eyes closed and he fell instantly as he started bleeding from the crack in his head. The blood seeped out dangerously fast.

Gilbert was over him in a matter of seconds, tearing off his jacket and pressing it against the wound, tears creeping into the corners of his red eyes.

"_Bruder_!" he looked at the face, terrified by its pale color, not really knowing what to do other than try and stop the bleeding, with no success. He then looked at Ivan, eyes showing the utmost hatred and anger for the man. "Ivan... _Ficken_ _Schwanz_! What do you think you're-"

Before he finished the sentence, the pipe also hit him, also in the head, and made him fall to the side, his face going blank and blood seeping out from his head as well.

Ukraine screamed and grabbed her face, eyes widening with shock and fear.

"Brother!" she cried and ran over to him, trying to force the pipe out of his hand. He wouldn't let her; he pushed her away, turning to Francis, who crawled back, whining something in French.

Ivan lifted the pipe once more and swung it against his head, hitting the exact spot as he had on the others. He then smiled and looked at Elizabeta and Roderich.

The Austrian desperately tried to help her calm down and ease her pain, at the same time trying to cover her and hide her.

"Please, Ivan," he begs, "Don't hurt her. You have hurt her bad enough. Let her go."

"_Nyet_," is the answer and the pipe is swung again, but instead of hitting Elizabeta, he stopped it as Roderich had jumped in front of her, eyes closed and looking like he knew he was going to die or at least pass out. But as he didn't feel the enormous pain, he opened one eye and saw the pipe so close to him that it was blurry.

His heart was pounding like crazy, and his breathing was superficial. He was half a centimeter from dying.

At first, Ivan looked shocked. He knew that Roderich was aware he would have been dead if the pipe had hit him. That must mean that he really loved Elizabeta as he was ready to sacrifice his own life for her. Then, Ivan smiled and let the pipe down alongside his tall body.

"Move. Out of the way," Ivan snarled. Roderich's body shook, but it was absolutely not doubtable that the shaking of his head wasn't part of the fear. He meant "no".

"Move!" Ivan then yelled, making everyone conscious in the room jump. "Get out of the way, and you will survive, but the lady will die. Keep standing there, and you will die, but the lady will live."

This was, of course, just a joke. He would of course not kill Roderich, but he would most likely kill or knock out the Hungarian.

But the Austrian didn't move. Not a single inch, although he shook even more violent now. Ivan smiled.

"So," he said, taking a step closer and looking at Roderich, then Elizabeta, "you're ready to give your life for saving her?"

"Y-Yes," he answered and took a step backwards, trying to protect her even more.

"I see." His eyes were cold, yet warm. Insane, yet sane. It looked like he was thinking hard, the cogwheels turning in his brain almost audible.

"I'll let you both go." He then turned to his sister, who still stood and looked and absolutely horrified.

"Sister, take care of those… other. Send them home, bury them and let them dig their way out, or whatever you may like. Just make sure they leave this place. And of course, take Mrs. Hungary with you, but watch out. She seems to be in pain." The last sentence was sneering and he laughed when he had finished it.

She nodded and bowed before calling over Toris who wasn't late and when he entered the room, he gasped and took a few steps backward by the sight of the three unconscious persons and the utterly terrified Elizabeta and Roderich.

"Wha-" he was going to say, but the Ukrainian hushed him, sending a scared look to her brother before saying what they were going to do. He looked absolutely horrified and didn't even dare to gaze at the Russian before lifting one of the bodies, shaking under the weight, and then exiting the room, followed by the girl.

There existed total silence in the room until Toris had picked up Gilbert and the Ukrainian had persuaded the Hungarian to follow her, supporting her and holding a hand to her ribs, whispering soothing words to her. Roderich looked desperate after her, nervous that more things would happen to her.

Then, the big man looked down at Roderich, smiling an unnerving smile, walking towards him.

"Remember my words, Roderich. You will stay in this house for a long time. You better get used to the way of living here. Otherwise, it might have fatal consequences," he said, whereupon he left the room. The moment he had slipped through the door, Roderich collapsed.

His knees quivered and he gave in, legs sliding to the sides, pain coming back, until he sat on his bum, and he hid his face in his hands, tears running down his face.

"Oh Gott," he mumbled between the sobs he let out, "Oh Gott, oh Gott, oh Gott…" He repeated this several times while he sat there; totally unaware that Ivan had come back and stood in the door, watching him suffer. And he didn't smile now. Not in the slightest. Not even a hint of amusement was to be found in the deep ponds of purple water.

"What have I done…" Roderich them mumbled, leaning even more forward, running his fingers through his hair. Ivan jerked ever so slightly, remembering how he had whispered the exact same words on that night, only with far more pain and self-hatred. He watched the aristocrat take off his glasses and wipe the sleeve of the shirt in his face.

He hiccuped a single time before putting his glasses on again and standing up, breathing deeply, sniveling a bit before turning around, where his eyes fell upon the man in the door. His face turned red and he briskly walked by the Russian, atmosphere getting very awkward.

The Russian didn't move. He was standing completely still, looking at the place the Austrian had been sitting. He didn't know if he wanted to follow the aristocrat, just to freak him out, or if he wanted to be a little alone.

He decided to follow the aristocrat and turned around, just in time to see him pass a corner. Ivan speeded up, passed the corner and saw the other man go into the guest room.

Here, he sat down on the couch and sighed again, every now and then looking at the door, expecting the Russian to show up. Which he, of course, also did.

And when he did, he made sure to look tough, yet childish, as he was used to. He stamped his feet so he was sure the aristocrat heard him and made him turn his head at the sound.

"Oh… it's you," he just said and looked away.

"_Da_," he answered and walked over to the couch, standing beside the other man. "You better stop crying. It won't do you any good here, in this house. You must know that."

Roderich flinched at the words and his face reddened again.

"That is none of your business, Ivan. I have my own way of behaving, no matter where I am. Ja, I know it will not help me or do me any good, but please, just let me alone. Your presence is not helping me, either." This only made Ivan chuckle and move closer, practically breathing on the other's neck.

"I mean it, Ivan. G-Go away," He stumbled over the last words. Even though he honestly didn't want the Russian to be here right now – or just at all – he didn't have the courage to tell him so. Ivan was just too damn scary.

"_Nyet_. I will stay here, for ever and ever, right beside you," the Russian said, aiming to freak the other out, and apparently succeeding in this. Either way, the smaller man twitched and looked at him.

"I am serious in this, Ivan. Leave me alone," the aristocrat says and gets up, eyes locked on the other's. But the Russian just smiles.

"Or else?" he teased, leaning his face closer to the Austrian's. He notices how the small man's face reddens again, deeper. He is scared. He can almost smell the fear. But the aristocrat doesn't want to lose face.

"O-Or else I'll make sure there'll be hell to pay when I get out of here."

"Ha! I would love to see that from you, Roderich!" the Russian laughs, pats the aristocrat's shoulder and walks out the room again, leaving the smaller man to himself.

This was going to be interesting.


	7. As he learns more

**Look guys/girls/whoever reads this dumbfuck of letters, I'm so sorry for updating this so late. You won't even believe how sorry I am for that. Crazy shit has been happening at my place (Uhm, not really, but I have been unable to write on this, okay? Mind is fucked) and I have been busy. But now! It's here! *shoots myself***

**And so, moving on. This will be written like one month at a time. It is my plan to make Roderich suffer from Stockholm syndrome. So, time for research on this very interesting phenomenon, wuuh!**

The days passed and suddenly, it was one month later. The Russian had not been kind or friendly towards the Austrian. He had hit him several times and caused him to get even more bruises and wounds. But he had never broken a bone in his body. It was not because of kindness. It was because it would take too long to heal a broken bone. He would be of no use in that state. Just the wounds and bruises made him miserable, and Ivan didn't even want to think about what a broken leg or arm would do to him.

The everyday life was normal for the Russian. Only difference was the new man, another man to bully around. Not that he was a burden or anything, no, no, not at all. Although he sometimes was annoying, demanding to be allowed to play the violin. He showed no sign of wanting to play the piano. Every time he was nearing the room, his body would tense and steps would be taken faster until he was past it. It was hilarious for the Russian to watch, and he knew why the aristocrat wanted to avoid the room. It still filled him with the thoughts of what had happened in there for just about a month ago.

Both of the sisters were relatively friendly towards him. It was only the younger sister who seemed very jealous and envious of the Austrian, as he was the only person the Russian ever seemed to be talking voluntarily to. And he was also the only person who could yell at him without having a pipe flung at the face.

The Baltics were nice to him, too. They treated him like he had always been there, and as if they were friends. They were good at talking with him, and they weren't slow in introducing him to what he had to do in the house, what his chores was, and so on. But they were friendly to him, and as much as he was happy about it, he was also very confused about it.

But he wasn't free of harassment, not at all. The Russian would often follow him around, saying bawdy things to him, threatening him. Strongly hoping he would break. He knew he would. The aristocrat was weak, had always been. It wouldn't take long for him to break down and crumble, make him response to the taller man's every whim and word.

He would also change his mood and behaviour every now and then, just to fuck with the other's mind. One day, he could be sweet, gentle and innocent, childish as ever, and the next, he could be angry, dangerous, shabby and cruel. He would treat the aristocrat the same way as the others in the house, only with a few changes. The Russian didn't hit the others, no matter how bad they behaved, but he had no troubles about hitting the Austrian for just the slightest thing he did wrong, or if he was just being too cheeky for the big man's tastes.

Ivan spent a lot of time in his study. No one really knew what he did, what he spent all that time on. All they knew was that his was often drinking heavily in there. Many times they could hear him roar and scream, throwing things around, glass would shatter, and books would be ripped. The next morning when the aristocrat had to clean the room (it had become one of his chores), the Russian would be in there, grumpy and irritated and he would be dangerous. Screaming "Don't touch my things, you twat!" and such. And not for a single second did he hesitate to hit the other if he thought he was too disobeying. Many of the Austrian's new wounds originated from this action. He had been knocked out once and it had taken him a few hours to wake up. When he did, he was met by the angry eyes of Ivan and the words "Get up, wimp, the kitchen needs to be cleaned!" Despite his enormous headache, he had not dared to contravene, afraid of the punishment he would receive.

So, the time at the Russian's house wasn't a dance on roses. It was hard and painful. A lot of new things to get used to and learning to behave as Ivan wanted him to, although he didn't always. It wasn't because he wanted to be punished. He didn't like the pain it would bring to disobey the big man, but he just couldn't let go of his old habits.

It took him a long time to learn the he would not be allowed to play the violin, unless it was a direct order. And that opportunity occurred very rarely. But when it did, Roderich was so happy. He couldn't describe it, but would just bow to his new master and briskly get the violin before gently coaxing it to let go of its wonderful tones.

But the Russian had plans with all this. He would allow it for this month, maybe the next, too, but then, no more music. He would let the aristocrat know more and more about him. About his history. How he had been. It would be very painful, for him, but definitely also for the aristocrat. And that was the plan. To make the other feel sorry for him. To make him love him. So in the end, he would stay here.

And Ivan would be able to look at the man he so dearly loved. Every day. Every morning, every evening. He would of course allow him to play music again. He would buy him whatever he might want. He would be sweet and caring, although it was far from his nature. But he could do it, if it was for Roderich. Even if it would be hard, he could be caring and gentle for _his_ sweet, lovely man.

-

And so, another month passed. It was now time to be more sinister, more evil. In general, he should behave more like himself. The aristocrat would not be allowed to play any kind of music, no matter how much he begged. He wanted to make the other crumble, break apart, once more, without being touched physically. He could easily do that. And when that time came, the Austrian would finally realize why the Russian was like he was. How he had become what he was. It would be crystal-clear.

One evening, the Austrian sat in the living room and flipped through an old, Russian book. He didn't understand a single word, but he liked the pictures. It was pictures of beautiful nature and big cities. He smiled when seeing photography of the winter in Siberia. It almost reminded him of his own country. All the snow. But of course, Siberia was much, much bigger, so there was of course a lot of more snow. But it was the same snow that covered his own wonderful country. The same colours. He looked at it for a long time, until he heard the door creak and open, quickly looking at it, shrinking by the sight of the man. He was afraid of the man, yes, but he didn't dare say it. It was enough the other knew it without him also telling it.

"H-Hello, I-Ivan," he stuttered and put down the book on the table in front of him. Ivan just smiled and walked closer to him.

"Hello, Roderich." A sinister smile, a wicked chuckle. "What are you doing here, all by yourself?"

"I-I'm just reading. I am allowed to, ar-aren't I?"

"_Da_, but of course. Why would I not allow you to read? Now that I have forbidden you to play music, you must find something else to spend your time on."

"_J-Ja_," he mumbled and bowed to the taller man, standing up. "Ma-May I ask what you are doing h-here?"

"Just wanted to check on you. Make sure you weren't sneaking around or something." He grabbed the other and pulled the smaller man with him, making him yelp in surprise and then blush as he was hugged.

"Don't worry, love. I won't hurt you." A lie. A lie from the bottom of his heart. But it was necessary. He needed to lie, just a little. And it wasn't like he was bothered by it, anyway. "What are you reading?"

"I-I have no idea. Just lo-looking at the pic-pictures." Roderich had caught a habit of stuttering when talking with the Russian, just as the Baltics did. He was intimidating. Very.

"Would you like me to translate it for you?" The hug tightened.

"_N-nein_, _danke_. I'm fine with just looking at the pictures. Bu-but thank you very much for the offer. I ap-appreciate it."

And the Russian left again, letting him go so quickly he nearly didn't realize the muscular, strong arms around him had been withdrawn. The door closed. Roderich was once more alone, looking at the door, eyes not really seeing anything.

… What time was it? He searched for a clock and found one in the corner. Time to go to bed. He had to get up early in the morning.

With shaking legs, he got up, grabbed the book and put it back in the bookcase, before leaving the room and walking to his own bedroom. He had to pass the room with the piano on his way. He felt his muscles tense and he was about to speed up when he suddenly heard the instrument play. He stopped instantly, listening to it. It was a rapid piece of music, fingers quickly moving, playing on the dark notes. He spent a few minutes listening to it, then recognizing it. A dark, yet beautiful play. But no, he couldn't let himself stay here. Not so close to… to that place.

He ran for it. Ran all the way to his room. When finally inside, he closed and locked the door, knowing it would be punished the next day. He was not allowed to lock the door unless he was ordered to. He had been told he probably would be ordered to lock his bedroom door one day, but had yet to receive the order.

He then stood in the dark for a minute or two before slowly starting to undress. He wanted his normal clothes. His long, blue coat and the jabot. His comfortable black pants and the shoes. His own, white shirt. He had been provided with an amount of the Russian's clothes, but it felt so wrong on him. It was so much bigger on him and it was way too sloppy for him.

When he was lying in bed, it didn't take him long to fall asleep. Usually he would spend about fifteen minutes about repeating the next day's chores and to-do-list. But not today. Today, he just wanted to sleep…

Next morning, he was awakened by a loud banging noise. He sat up as if pulled by a wire and he then heard an unwanted, yet familiar voice shout the unnerving words "How dare you lock the door?" although it took his brain a few seconds to realize what were said and what the words meant. The next thing he felt was a pair of big hands that grabbed him by the collar, making him gasp for air, and then being dragged away. He felt soft tree and carpets under his naked feet that tried to get enough contact with the floor to walk, but not finding it. His vision was blurry and he couldn't see anything, only sense the wide hallways he was being dragged through. Everything was spinning as he tried to figure out just what was happening.

A door was opened and his right leg scraped it just as he kicked out to try and get up, but instead moaning in pain as he felt the skin be punctured and the blood start to seep down his leg. And then, he was lifted into the air and placed on something cold, yet oddly warm. Something that felt like leather and was soft.

The hand let go of his throat, and he inhaled the air greedily, almost having being choked by the Russian's hands. He knew it was Ivan, just by the words that had awakened him.

His voice was hoarse and husky when he spoke.

"Ivan." A mere croak. "What…?"

"Don't say anything. Play." Response cold and harsh, the same two big hands grabbing his and roughly putting them down on something smooth and plastic-like. The aristocrat instantly froze. Play? He let his shaking fingers travel across the things underneath them. The leather he sat on… both cold and warm.

A finger carefully pressing on the smooth surface. A C-sharp. The blood in his veins froze to ice. He was sitting on the piano stool, in front of the piano where… where _that_… had happened.

His body instantly yanked backwards, but was met by a strong pair of hands, holding him in place.

"Play. It." A deep snarl. Dangerously deep, dangerously low. Roderich was in trouble, and he knew it.

"_Bitte, nein_," he begged with his hoarse voice, still not able to focus entirely. "I-I can't… Ivan, no…"

"Are you disobeying me – again?" Whispering words against his ear. He closed his eyes and cringed in the stool. He was afraid. He was scared. He was terror-struck.

"Y-Yes. So-sorry, Master," he placed his hands over his ears, not knowing why, just not wanting to touch the piano in front of him. It was humiliating. He was seated in the place the other had… had… raped… him. How could he do this to him?

"Say it. What are you doing right now?" Ivan snarled, pressing his big hands down on Roderich's shoulder, so he couldn't move.

Roderich was terrified. How could Ivan do this to him? He knew how much he hated this place, and he also damn well knew why! He shook his head; the hands were removed from his ears, a mouth breathing into them.

"Roderich," it whispered, hands tightening the grip around his wrists, making him wrench in pain, holding back a scream, "tell me. Where are you, what are you doing, and what _should_ you be doing? Tell me."

Another shake of the head. A whimper escaping the aristocrat's lips.

"Tell me! Now!" When the Russian yelled, a strong reek of Vodka reached the other's nostrils. He had been drinking. Heavily. Again. It would serve him better to just tell him what he asked. But he couldn't. It was too painful.

"N-No," he whimpered, wriggling his hands to try and get them free, but only managing to make it hurt even more, tears almost crawling into his eyes. "Ivan, please, I-I be-beg of you, let me go…!"

A wicked laugh. Hands once more tightening their grip.

"Do you want another round? Do you want to be ra…" A hand was already starting to travel down his spine, when…

"No!" The Austrian cut off the Russian's words before he had even finished, tears finally creeping out and sliding down his cheeks. "No! No, I don't! Let me go, please!" He twitched in the seat, seeking to avoid the fingers touching his back.

"Play it!" the other hissed and his grip threatened to crack the smaller man's wrists. "Play the piano!"

A long silence followed where the only thing audible was the Austrian's muffled hiccups and sobs, his troubled breathing. His miserable whimpers. The Russian's angry breathing. A single bird chirping outside.

Roderich slowly opened his mouth, every muscle in his body shaking wildly. "Please… Ivan, I beg of you. I-I can't. Please…. _Po-Pozhaluĭsta_." He begged in Russian, not knowing if it would help. It probably wouldn't. "Let me go. You… You know I can't do it…" Tears were running freely now.

"You can. And you will. Do it. Now." His voice was ice-cold and harsh and it made the smaller man cringe as if he had been hit.

"_N-Nein. Bitte. Bitte_. Don't make me do it…!" He had prepared for the hit in the short second one of the hands had let go of his wrists. The big hand landed on his cheek, turning his head to the side, the pain burning in cheek, neck and back. He let out a small scream.

"Go ahead. Scream if you like. I don't care. Play that _fucking_ piano right now." Every single of the words were marked with the promise of even more pain if he didn't.

Pictures flashing in his mind. Lust in the face of the Russian. Being undressed by said man. Against the piano. Pressing the keys with his body. Making music. Unwillingly.

He felt the other hand tighten even more around the wrist, bones creaking, the bigger hand slowly tightening every second, and he then screamed, from the top of his lungs, tears blurring his voice.

"Stop!" The hand stopped. The Russian smiled. He had succeeded. The smaller man gasped wildly, sobbing loudly. It echoed in the large room.

"I'll do it." Nothing but a whisper. "Just… Just… Give me a minute."

"… _Da._" The answer was hesitating, as if doubting he had actually heard correct. But when he saw the beautiful, slender fingers move slowly, very, very slowly towards the keys on the piano, he knew he had won and his smile grew.

He had taken the first step in breaking down the aristocrat. And he had succeeded. He had made Roderich play on the very piano he had been raped on. In the very room he had always tried to avoid.

The fingers were slow, too slow for the Russian's likings, but he decided to be patient. He knew what the other went through at the moment. Suffering. And a lot of it.

But then, the tones flowed. It was not with the normal elegance and accuracy as normal, but that was only to be expected. He hadn't played the piano for a while. And he was forced to.

"A-Anything special?" the Austrian whispered, tears now flowing silently.

"Hmm. _Nyet_." was the answer. Roderich nodded and kept on playing. A very slow and sad melody, the dark tones dominating.

He was forced to play for about an hour before the Russian finally let go of him. He cringed again, afraid to feel the big and strong hands hit him once more.

"That was good. You can go." Ivan said, and Roderich heard the sound of an almost empty bottle being turned upside-down and then the swigs when Ivan downed a bottle of Vodka.

He wasn't late to stand up and run out the room, aiming for his bedroom. He was dying inside and still crying. He met the Russian's older sister on the way, and she stopped, gasped and asked what was wrong. He shook his head, wiped away a few tears before continuing.

He stood there for way too long before he could make himself gather the clothes and put it on, shaking fingers, shaking legs; every muscle in his body was shaking, and his wrists were hurting. Badly. He found a towel in the bathroom and wiped his eyes, washed his face and took some deep breaths, hands grabbing firmly around the sink. He then noticed his bleeding leg. He exhaled deeply and shook as he moved the towel to the new wound, dabbed away the blood and put a band-aid on it, rolling down the trouser leg.

Time to do the chores…

-

When he walked into the kitchen, he found the two sisters already in there. They turned to look at him, but it was only the older sister that reacted more than that. She ran over to him, already stretching out her hands to take his wrists in her smaller hands, looking at the bruises.

"Mr. Austria, who…?" Seeing as he just shook his head and walked to the refrigerator to get out the ingredients needed to cook breakfast, she looked at him with worried eyes. Her thoughts were running at a rapid speed and they all said something about his brother being guilty, although she would refuse to believe it. She loved her brother, he couldn't have done that, despite his… at times foul mood.

They didn't talk while doing their chores, and the atmosphere was unusually tense. But no matter how much the Austrian didn't want to, he couldn't help but notice that the younger seemed more irritated at him than normal, and he couldn't figure out why.

Had he done something to annoy her? Something he hadn't noticed, perhaps? But what could it be? He decided to ask her when they had done this.

Breakfast was not what one would call a joyful occurrence. The atmosphere was really tense and not cosy. The Russian was the only one who acted like nothing was wrong (but this atmosphere was probably pretty normal for him, anyway) and just blabbered away with the Baltics and his sisters. Roderich didn't talk and he didn't eat. He spent the time looking at his wrists. It sure was some big bruises… And it hurt. Very much.

The bigger sister was the first to notice that the Austrian wasn't eating, saying or doing anything at all. He just sat there, looking at his plate, every now and then poking his food with the fork.

She took a deep breath before asking: "Mr. Austria, what happened to you?"

The Austrian flinched slightly and just shook his head. "I-It's nothing, Ms. Ukraine. I was incautious and by accident hit my wrists again the door frame when I went to bed yesterday," he answered, sending her a quick and insecure look before standing from his chair, grabbing the plate and going for the sink and trash bin.

"My apologies. I am not hungry," he mumbled and cleaned his dish before putting it beside the sink, then turned around and looked at them, bowing for each person, but especially deep for the Russian. "I-I will be cleaning the study, Mr. Russia."

Quickly dashing out of the room, he aimed for the study where his first chore awaited. He reached the door, fearful of what he might find in there, but when he grabbed the knob and pushed against the door, it didn't give in. He frowned and tried once more.

Still no reaction, except for the hinges creaking lightly and the lock rattling. This was highly unusual. Ivan would rarely lock the door when he knew it had to be cleaned.

Roderich turned around, about to go back and ask if he would be as kind as to unlock the door, but he didn't have to move very far. He had only just turned when he stood face-to-face with the bigger, smiling man.

"Hey, Roderich," he chirped and got closer to the other, pushing him further against the door. "Having problems with the door?" His face was uncomfortably close to his own, thought Roderich, and tried to get away, but not succeeding.

"Y-Yes, Mr. Russia, it… it seems to be locked," he answered in a mumble, starting to tremble again. The eternal unnerving smile on the other's face grew and he chuckled.

"You are so smart, right from the morning," he said and put his face so close to the Austrian's that they could feel each other's breaths. The words made the smaller man twitch and move his head to the side so he didn't have to look into those sinister, violet eyes. It was as if they hurt him, just by looking at him. He feared the possible touches and he whimpered quietly when the Russian moved his big hand to his side, but he was only aiming for the lock, unlocking the door and opening it, causing the aristocrat to fall backwards with a yelp of surprise before landing on his back, looking up at the bigger man.

Said man smiled even wider and stretched out a hand.

"You are clumsy. Do you want help, _mein Liebchen_?" he asked, nearly laughing out loudly at the flushed face Roderich put up.

The smaller man reached his arm back and got himself up, straightened the clothes and removed the dust.

"I-I can handle myself, and… don't call me that," he mumbled and turned his back on the Russian, knowing how dangerous this could be. It was about the same as turning your back on a hungry lion and then start running; it would see you as a prey. And the Russian was just the same.

But he was either sated or just not in the mood right now, because all he did was chuckle at the Austrian's words when he looked around the room. Ivan sure had been drinking heavily this night. There were broken bottles everywhere, glass splinters scattered around the floor, the desk and the windowsill. There were even glass splinter in the small cabinet beside the desk, in the cabinet where the Russian kept all his most precious possessions. Not that there was anything in there, though. It was completely empty. Except, now, for the broken bottles.

"D-Do you have anywhere specific you want me to start?" Roderich mumbled, bowing his head and already going for the glass, starting to pick up the splinters and finding an almost whole bottle to put them in, but was stopped by a firm grip around his shoulder. He forced himself to suppress a gasp and didn't look back.

"You could start with this," the Russian grinned and put the smaller man's hand to his crotch, amused by the twitch it caused the other to make, and he instantly withdrew his hand.

"I-I believe you know I won't ever do su-such a thing," he hissed and despite knowing he would probably be punished for this, for his disobeying, he continued removing the glass, his face flushed once more. He knew he shouldn't be acting and saying things like that, but he couldn't help it. It was an old habit to respond like that. Gilbert was so often asking him to do the same thing, after all. But this wasn't Gilbert. This was Ivan, a very insane man who couldn't be trusted to act natural to be denied such a thing.

"You will in time, _da_~" the man chirped, then chuckled and sat in the chair behind the desk. "But if you so badly want to, pick up those pieces of glass and dispose of them somewhere."

"… Y-Yes, Master," Roderich mumbled, shivering by his first words. That didn't sound promising. At all. But no way he would ever do such a thing voluntarily. No way in fuck-… no way. Refraining from cursing, the Austrian just continued cleaning the room of glass splinters. After a while he didn't have anywhere to put it, and though very scared of it, he asked the Russian if he would be as kind as to get him a bucket and a vacuum cleaner.

The man just smiled and called for the Lithuanian who instantly came running to them, standing trembling in front of them, first looking at Ivan, then at Roderich.

"Toris~" the Russian chirped and flashed him a wide smile. "Go fetch a vacuum cleaner and a bucket, _da_!"

"Y-Yes, M-Mr. Russia!" the brunette answered, bowed and dashed off again.

This was followed by a rather long silence where Roderich continued to clean the room as good as he could without any tools. Ivan still sat behind the table, watching Roderich as he moved, picking up the splintered glass and putting it in a pile by the almost whole bottle. When Toris came with the things needed, he handed them to Roderich with trembling hands, looking at the Russian with terrified eyes.

"Thank you, Toris," Roderich mumbled, and the man ran off again. He then disposed of the glass in the bucket and started the vacuum cleaner, sliding it over the floor to find the last small pieces. When he had done that, he turned it off and sent a quick look in Ivan's direction. He was still sitting in his chair and watching the other, now with a slightly curious shine in his eyes. Roderich didn't like it so he just turned around and curled up the flex around the machine, putting it against the wall.

"Anything else, Mas-!" He didn't get to finish his sentence as he in pure horror and fear felt the Russian right behind him, hugging him tightly. The smaller man froze, paralyzed, and didn't move an inch, except for his trembling muscles. The hands didn't feel harsh or cruel, but that only unnerved the aristocrat so much more. What was Ivan going to do with him...?

He swallowed something he defined as fear, but didn't get rid of it. Instead, the feeling only grew as the man's hand slowly moved to cup his cheeks and grab his hands in the other. This made Roderich instinctually flinch, trying to get away from the touches, but not succeeding. Of course not. Ivan was so much stronger than him. He couldn't do a thing about it if Ivan decidef to try something.

"Oh, but relax, my sweet Roderich," Ivan whispered into his ear, hair tickling the neck and shell of the ear. Roderich flinched again, as if he had been hit, closed his eyes tightly and just wished for the man to let go. Please, let me go, don't hurt me!

As if the Russian had read the other man's thought, he chuckled and whispered "I don't plan on hurting you." Roderich waited for the 'Not right now', but it didn't come. Instead, he felt his hands be released and they fell down alongside his trembling body. Ivan's fingers moved to stroke the smaller man's cheek, first the left, then the right, and it made Roderich open his eyes very lightly, look out in front of him. Such light touches. No harm or cruelty was hidden behind them. It was pure, clean touches.

"What… what shall I do now, Master?" Roderich whispered and took a deep breath, swallowing again, when the hands locked with each other, hugging him tighter. The mouth was still right beside his ear, warm air gently brushing against them.

Ivan purred as he answered. "Well, what do you want to do?"

Roderich felt a strong shiver force its way down his spine and he gasped lightly. Was this a trap? He should weigh his words carefully now. Whatever he said, he was sure it wouldn't please the Russian. But he could also see a sudden glimpse of freedom, a sudden taste of being released. Although he knew this would never happen, he couldn't help but feel his heart beat even faster, beat for the freedom he could see right there in front of him, out the window, looking at the snow covering the ground.

But no. He couldn't say that. He just couldn't. It would never happen, anyway, so he could as well just stop hoping.

His answer therefore became a slight whimper and a "What…whatever can please my Master. E-Except for… for _that_," he added, eyes now fixed on the carpet under him. He couldn't. He could do anything but _that_. He didn't want the pain from that, but he didn't want the pain from disobeying his Master, either.

Ivan chuckled, the breath tickling his ear. Roderich shivered again. That chuckle was not comforting.

"Well, then let me tell you stories from when I was a child, _da_!"

This surprised the Austrian quite a lot. He had expected something painful and embarrassing, not… not this. And so, he just nodded. He had no idea how painful it would turn out to be in the end. Anything but physical pain, though.

-  
>The more and more Ivan revealed about himself, the more and more terrified Roderich became. He wanted to escape, wanted to run away and not look at the other man again. But he couldn't. Even though it was so unbearably painful, he remained seated in the couch. The Russian sat beside him, talking and talking. Every now and then making a small pause before continuing.<p>

He drank heavily all the while. Bottle after bottle was emptied, but yet, he remained sober, not even tipsy after the fourth bottle. He called for Toris whenever he found himself in need of new supplies which were pretty often. Every time, Toris was horrified and scared, but he obeyed, not daring to oppose the man. And honestly, Roderich understood him. He didn't dare oppose the man, either. So he just continued listening to Ivan's horrible stories.

They made him want to cry. Everything was so detailed. The way the blood covered the glistening white snow, the cries of men that were slaughtered, their pleas of mercy. The cold and merciless 'No' they all got, said without words, said with the action that made the men scream even more, throw their heads back in pain and scream for mercy, couldn't they just get killed right now?

Ivan took another swig of the sixth bottle of Vodka, his voice gaining the slightest bit of blur as his body finally started to react to all the alcohol he had been consuming.

"I bet you can imagine it was pretty hard times," he said and looked up at Roderich. The brunette nodded weakly and his eyes stared into the distance, not focusing on anything special.

"So many people were beaten. I was beaten. Badly. And I… I turned to my own people, the citizens in my country. I slaughtered them, killed them mercilessly." His eyes shone in the dim light and his lips had turned into a crooked smile. The insanity he was so known for was shining through. Roderich shivered.

"They begged for mercy, begged for an explanation. I gave them neither. I gave them pain and death instead," he continued, eyes shining brighter and brighter, the insanity becoming clearer and clearer. "I told them they could do nothing, that they would all die. Their families, their friends, everyone they loved. But isn't that a relief? That you can go to the same place together, even if the Grim Reaper is the one leading you?" It was a question and he was waiting for an answer.

Roderich cleared his throat and his eyes found the insane, violet orbs staring at him. He felt anxious and was utterly scared of answering. But he knew it was expected for him and he therefore obeyed.

"I… I think that… Death can be sweetened so it won't be as painful as normal. But… I don't think it can be made totally pain free. And… I don't think it's necessarily better to go there together with your family or friends. It may… It may seem like a good thing, but I don't think you would wish for those you love to die. I think you would wish for them to continue living so they could be happy and live a great life."

There was long silence where the two men just looked at each other, the smaller shrinking and sitting deeper and deeper into the couch, terrified about what he had just said and the reaction he would get from the Russian who just seemed to consider his answer, weighing the words.

The crooked smile got wider, the insanity still present in both lips and eyes.

"You're so clever~" he then said, voice copying that of a child's, and put his arms around the other man's waist, hugging him tightly, which made him yelp in surprise, half a second later taking a hand to his mouth to try and cover up for what had already happened.

As the violet orbs were turned against him, Roderich felt his body start to shiver and cold sweat started to appear on his skin.

"What was that?" Ivan whispered, staring at the small man in front of him, the grin still very present.

"No-Nothing," Roderich mumbled. _Verdammt_!

"Do it again."

Roderich's eyes widened and he stared up at the bigger man who had somehow managed to change their positions so the brunette lied on his back and the other was sitting on his knees and hands above him. His eyes shone and glistened.

"Make that sound again."

The Austrian shook his head and closed his eyes, not wanting to look at Ivan right now. He… He was too intimidating. And this… This position didn't make it any better.

"I said," Ivan started and grabbed around the brunette's jaws, forcing his head still and aimed at his own, "make that sound again. _Pet_." He whispered the last word into Roderich's ear, his body bent closer to him. His lips parted in an evil grin as he felt the smaller man shiver and writhe in an attempt to get away.

"N-No," the musician whispered, eyes still closed. Ivan's smile grew even wider and he tightened the grip of the jaw. He more felt than heard he bones bend lightly but it was Roderich he paid attention to. The man yelped again and it was followed by a loud scream of pain. Ivan let go.

"That's a good pet," he whispered and moved his head back so he could stare down at the man. "Let me help you with that jaw, _da_!"

Once more moving his head, Ivan connected their lips in a kiss. It wasn't a passionate kiss, not an angry one, either. It was just a kiss. Their lips pressed together, Ivan's gloved hand behind Roderich's head and forcing them closer. They stared into each other's eyes, Ivan's purple orbs shining with amusement and… and something Roderich couldn't define. But it scared him, that was all he could register.

The musician closed his eyes when the other tilted his head lightly and somehow made the kiss a bit passionate, the kiss actually started to hold kindness. Something Roderich had never thought he would feel from the man on top of him.

He made a small sound that could be interpreted as either a whimper or a scared moan. Ivan decided it was the last and smirked, his tongue grazing over the other's lips. The smaller man shivered and tried to get away, but the gloved hand was still around his jaws and held him in place.

And just as the Russian's tongue had forced the pair of lips apart, the man squirmed in a way that made him able to get out of the bigger man's grip.

His head got out of the grip and he instantly curled up on himself like he had been beaten, few tears leaking from his eyes. His heart was beating rapidly, so fast it hurt. It really hurt.

Ivan looked down at him, head still tilted slightly. He didn't understand what had made the other man act like that. He had it liked it. He had liked the kiss, why didn't the other?

"P-Please," the Austrian whispered and lifted his hands in front of his face, hiding the tears and reddened cheeks. "M-May I go t-to my ro-room, Ma-Master?"

The Russian thought a bit. Well… seems he had scared the man! That's good, da, that's fun! And so, he smiled, widely and that childish look was back on his face.

"_Da_! You can go if you want to!" But he didn't move. He was still sitting on all four above the other man, forcing him to either move the Russian away himself or find another way out.

And Ivan was surprised when the brunette moved towards the armrest and somehow managed to snake over it and land on his back on the floor, instantly up and running towards his room.

Ivan chuckled and stared at the door when it slammed behind the other before sitting normally, staring out in the distance, the smile becoming less amused, less childish and more predatory. So far his plan was still working fine. Violence, then kindness. He would eventually break the man and the man would realize Russia could be kind and that he also liked the man.

He just had to made sure those other idiotic Europeans wouldn't drop by and try to snatch Roderich away. But they wouldn't dare. They knew what would happen if they showed up here again. On the other hand… that could be fun! More people to play with!

His smile widened and he got up from the couch, grabbing the bottle of Vodka on the table and walked to his study. He had work to do~

-

**Woop woop! First part of this chapter! Hope you liked it! I would like to say that this isn't going to be a lovey-dovey story with fluff and red roses (*cough*sunflowers*cough*) and so. I plan on making it rough and dark. Dunno if I succeed, but hey, it's my first try!**

**I finally feel inspirational so I hope the next update will be soon! I'm about halfway with that and I expect it to be the last or second-last chapter.**

**Translations:  
><strong>_Da _= Yes (Russian)

_Ja_ = Yes (German)

_Nein_, _danke_ = No thank you (German)

_Bitte, nein_ = Please, no (German)

_Pozhaluĭsta_ = Please (Russian)

_Nein_ = No (German)  
><em>Bitte<em> = Please (German)

_Nyet_ = No (Russian)

_Mein Liebchen _= My love/my beloved (German) (Russia only uses this to annoy/scare Austria even more)

_Verdammt_ = Damn it (German)


	8. As things begin to escalate

**Okay, guys! Here is the second part of the 7th chapter! Sorry for cutting it in two parts but I thought it would simply be too long if it was just one part. I once more apologize for having updated so late! **

-  
>In the third month, nothing really happened. Ivan was the same as always, gloomy and scary, acting childish yet insane. The only special that happened was that Feliks showed up a week into the month and asked if Toris could hang with him. He was roughly thrown out, followed by a rain of shattered bottles.<p>

As about half of the fourth month had passed, it one day suddenly knocked on the door. Ivan was reading in a thick book but the knocking disturbed him. He looked up and saw that the Lithuanian stood in the door to his room, looking at him and shivering greatly.

"M-Mr. Russia, you have guests," he said with fear in every word. He had seen the persons by the door and he knew his superior wouldn't be happy about them.

"Great!" The Russian slammed the book closed and jumped up, looking like a child whose mother had bought it its favourite candy.

He ran to the front door, eager to see who had come to visit. And when he did his smile faltered for a second. The childish look disappeared and gave way to the predator he was, the all too familiar madness and insanity glistening in his eyes.

"Miss Elizabeta. Pet Gilbert. Potato Ludwig. And wine Francis," he said, his voice still that of a child which only made him appear that more mad.

Now, this was highly interesting. They actually had the courage to visit him again. That was… unexpected. But Ivan didn't really mind. He was only nervous about the German and that wasn't even that much. But Ludwig was strong, you shouldn't underestimate that.

"Cut the crap!" the Prussian snarled and tried to move inside the house but was being pushed back by Ivan with childish ease.

"Do you think you will get in that easy?" the bigger man asked and looked down at him with mocking eyes and smile, chuckling lightly.

The albino snarled and tried again but was once more met by a push from the Russian. His smile grew wider.

"When thinking about how you were beaten up yesterday it's impressive you are all so fit!" he said and looked at them more closely. They didn't look far from normal. The Prussian was the one who had the most significant damages. And that was only a wound visible through his white hair. Elizabeta was leaning to one side but looked pretty stiff. The German also had a wound in the head but it wasn't as visible as his brother's and the French didn't have damages to show off.

"You didn't believe us to stay away just because of that, did you?" the palest man snarled and finally got past the Russian with the help of his brother. Not that Ivan put up much of a fight this time. He just turned to look at them as they got inside his house. He would normally drag them out again after having beaten them half to death but his mind had formed an idea he wanted to try out. He would hate himself for doing it later but right now, that wasn't important.

He called for the Austrian and just like Toris, the man appeared from the kitchen, holding a wet plate and a dish towel. When seeing the visitors he almost dropped both.

Why had they come back? They knew the danger they put themselves through, why risk that? He wished to get out of here, of course he did, but not if it caused them that much pain.

He just nodded to them, his eyes lingering on his ex-wife for a while longer before finally settling on the man who had called for him.

"You called, Mr. Russia?" he said and felt embarrassed by having the others see how much the Russian had managed to break him. He was aware that showing this might cause him even more trouble and more pain but he couldn't bring himself to try and hide it.

"_Da_!" the bigger man said and walked to him, grabbed him by the shoulder and forced him to face the group. Roderich's eyes fell on the German first, silently begging him to do something, help him escape, then went to Elizabeta and tried to signalize she should get away. He didn't want her to be hurt, he still liked her.

"But I'm not done with the dishes," he mumbled and lifted the plate and towel as if this was necessary for the Russian to see he was right.

"That is okay! You finish them after I have sent these fun toys away, _da_!" Ivan looked down at the brunette and walked behind him. He sent the Hungarian a wicked grin, his eyes glistening with joy and childish amusement. Oh, this was going to be fun!

"Elizabeta," he chirped and the woman instantly twitched as if hit and she winced a bit by the pain it caused to her ribs. He just chuckled. "You like Roderich, _da_?" She nodded.

The aristocrat felt his heart both speed up and stop for a moment, a very weird and uncomfortable experience he didn't wish to have again. What was the man planning, why did he ask that…?

"Enough to save him from a bullet?" Or, in this case, Ivan thought to himself, a pipe, should the Austrian make a wrong move.

She nodded again, followed by an angry growl. Such stupid and unnecessary questions. Wasn't it already clear how much she still loved him?

"And the same goes for our little musician," he continued and pet the brunette in front of him, made him bite his lip in discomfort. Had he not been afraid of being hit he would have flinched away. "We saw that yesterday, _da_!"

"Ivan," the German then said and took a step forward, standing beside the woman. "What is it that you want?"

The smile widened and the Russian turned to the Ludwig, eyes glistening even stronger.

"I want Roderich, _da_! And while I will own him in due time, I now want to see him and our lovely Hungarian show just how lovey-dovey they are!"

Total silence.

Until Roderich dropped the plate and it splintered in a thousand pieces. He didn't even seem to notice it, didn't seem to notice that he was now standing in a pile of porcelain, the towel following suit and covering them.

His mind had stopped for a second. What…? What did Ivan mean? He didn't want to know and he tried to take a step back, only to be met by the Russian's strong and firm hands and a chuckle.

"No need to back away! I know you love her oh so much, _da_! Show it!" Ivan knew the Austrian didn't like showing affection in front of other people and that it embarrassed him greatly. And being ordered to would only make it worse and Ivan would love it.

And despite knowing it was for his own amusement he also knew it would pain him to see his Roderich be so close with someone else. He wanted the man for himself but seeing him struggle to follow the order would be very fun, _da_!

The German brothers and Francis looked just as confused as Elizabeta. She was frowning and narrowed her eyes a bit.

"Just how insane has the cold made you?" she asked, making the Russian chuckle.

"Charming as ever. But I don't have all day; I have got work to do as well." Annoyance flared over his eyes for the shortest moment and his hands clenched firmer around the Austrian's shoulder, signalizing him to get a move on.

"Y-Yes, Master," the smaller man whispered and was released. With slow and shaking steps he walked around the pile of crushed plate and towel and reached Elizabeta within a few seconds. The German didn't move an inch, just followed the man with his eyes. Francis and Gilbert were the same, stiff with shock.

"Please forgive me," Roderich mumbled and felt cold sweat creep onto his body as he put his hands on the woman's shoulder and brought their heads together.

When their lips met the well-known fire in his stomach flared. He knew others were looking and it bothered him a great deal. Why the Russian would command him to do this confused him and he was very uneasy about it.

Elizabeta's eyes widened when she felt the familiar lips on her own but it only took seconds to close her eyes and be able to block out the others. She knew they were still there but it didn't bother her in the same way she knew it bothered her ex-husband.

She instead deepened the kiss per instinct, ignoring the pain in her ribs as he was moved closer to her.

Ivan watched them, eyes both hungry and angry. He had known he would feel anger by seeing this from the very first moment he got the idea but right now he didn't care.

He only cared when he saw the man accept the deepening and even moved forward a few steps, gently forcing the woman against the walls as their mouths moved in perfect harmony.

Roderich had forgotten the people around him. He had forgotten his Master who was watching him. He had forgotten the always annoying Gilbert who used to mock him when seeing him kiss Elizabeta. Francis was forgotten as well, just as the German.

He only had mind and focus on his lovely ex-wife. He let a hand stroke her cheeks and walk to her sides, gently brushing against the clothes before settling and pulling her closer. His eyes were closed and his head tilted lightly to gain better access to her mouth.

She suppressed a content moan as well as a pained gasp and just let herself be drawn closer. She folded her arms around the other's neck and opened her mouth to allow Roderich's tongue entrance. He was about to do just that when she was suddenly gone, in a matter of nanoseconds.

Next thing he knew was a strong blow to his knee and he fell forward, a hand automatically reaching for the wall in front of him. He gasped and suppressed a scream as he hit the floor with his knees first. He could feel one of them bleed. Profusely. The world was spinning before his eyes, vision clouded with pain.

He looked up and found an unconscious Elizabeta before him. Over her Ivan stood, pipe in hand and fury in his eyes.

"Too much," he simply said and lifted the cold object to hit her again but Ludwig was faster and instantly grabbed her and dragged her away so the pipe only hit the floor, creating a great crack.

His eyes moved to the blond holding the woman in a surprisingly gentle grip. Then a smile flashed over the Russian's face and he slowly straightened up and let his arm hang down alongside his body, the top of the pipe barely scraping over the floor.

"Are you taking her away?" he whispered, voice sounding happy and light, joyful.

"You bet your sorry ass we are," the albino growled and moved towards the Austrian still sitting on the floor, a hand on the wall in front of him. "And we're taking him with us."

A chuckle erupted from the cold man's throat and his eyes shone with amusement as he took a single step to the side and stood between the albino and the brunette.

"I don't think so," Ivan whispered and his eyes glistened when he raised the pipe and made ready to swing it.

"Here, take her and get her away," the German mumbled to the Frenchman who instantly obeyed and ran out of the door after having taken Elizabeta into his arms. Ivan didn't follow. He knew his Roderich was the next prey and he would make sure they wouldn't get to him. Never.

Gilbert had grabbed around the pipe and used nearly all his strength to keep it away from his body. His face was contorted with exertion and he was biting his lip, growling. His hands were trembling lightly as he finally pushed the pipe away and he got a quick second to breathe before the object once more was swung at his head. He ducked under it and aimed a kick at the Russian's knees.

His foot hit perfectly but there was no reaction from the other. His knees didn't even buckle, his face didn't move, the smile didn't falter.

Only the eyes showed he had felt the kick. They got a momentarily shine of annoyance, then anger, ending off with more amusement.

With childish ease, he stopped the fist sent at his face. He had grabbed it in his own gloved hand and meanwhile managed to kick the German in the shin when the blond got into the fight.

His eyes first rested on Gilbert as he tightened the grip and felt the bones bend lightly. He saw the Prussian attempt to fight off the signs of pain but the man failed when a loud, nauseating smack was heard. Then the albino screamed in pain and fell to his knees when his arm in the same movement was twisted around.

Ludwig's eyes shone, showing hatred and disgust for the Russian's actions.

"You want the same pain, _da_?" Ivan nearly asked, attention turned to the blond when he thought he was done with the albino. For the time being.

The German didn't answer but just took a gun out from his pants and pointed it at the cold nation. His hand was steady as ever and didn't tremble a bit. Blue eyes were locked on purple and it was like a fight was fought in silence between them.

"Let him go, Ivan." His finger found the trigger and rested on the cold piece of metal, ready to pull it.

Ivan looked down on the momentarily forgotten Austrian who was panting lightly and had closed his eyes tightly, mouth a thin line. He had changed position so he sat on his bum and held his hands around the knee from where blood was flowing. Tears were sliding from his closed eyes and his body was shaking.

A short moment of regret, the shortest and weakest wave of regret flared through the Russian and was shown in his eyes as they went back to the German, causing said man to look a bit surprised and confused, but only for a quarter of a second.

"Ivan," he warned and added pressure to the finger on the trigger. The Russian did nothing but smile, regret now forgotten as he then looked at the albino who had been forced to the floor. Ivan still held his broken fist, the arm was still twisted around and so he had managed to paralyze the always bragging ex-nation.

"Not so brave now, _da_?" he whispered to the albino, bent in his knees and was on the same eye-height as the other, smiling widely and insane before letting go of the broken bones and pushed the man backwards, dodging the bullet instantly sent from the German's gun.

"What's wrong?" the bigger man said and stood up again, letting growling Prussian be growling Prussian and turned to the former soldier. "You don't aim as good as usually!"

"And you're not acting as usually," the blond answered, making ready to shoot again if necessary. "Why do you want Roderich all to yourself? What is he to you?"

The Austrian looked up at the blond through a blurry vision, tried to stand but had to give up when his hurt knee gave in and he collapse again, gasping.

All of the men's attention was drawn to him by this. Gilbert backed away a bit before letting his good hand support him against the wall and snuck around the Russian when his brother sent another bullet the man's way.

He avoided a kick sent at his ribs and reached the musician, grabbed his shoulder and was about to try and get him out when another shot was fired and he felt instant pain in his back when he was thrown to the floor.

A moment of confusion and pain blinded him. He thought it was his brother that had shot at him but… why would West do that? As his vision got clear again he looked up at a pair of insane and angry violet orbs, blood trickling down the side of his face. Yet he still managed to smile. The smile that was so wrong, didn't fit.

Pressure was then added to his throat before he got time to react and he instinctively gasped for air, good hand fumbling with the boot while the bad was just lying limply beside him. The pain coursed through him and he felt tears creep into his eyes. He tried to force them away but winced as it got harder to breathe.

Where was his brother? What was his brother doing, why didn't he help?

His eyelids hid and revealed the eyeballs several times before they finally saw. They then found the German by the wall, holding onto his shoulder with the other hand, gun still in it. His face was contorted with anger, nothing like pain, as he just looked at the Russian and the Prussian.

"You were fun to play with when you lived here, _da_," Ivan said, his voice changing from dark and sinister to light and happy with every word, his body leaning more and more forward until he felt his balance start to fail a bit. "Now you're just boring. You don't have the same willpower as before."

"G-Get off m-me," the albino managed to stutter and his good hand found the ankle of his attacker and tightened around it.

"Maybe," the Russian chirped and added a bit more pressure, causing Gilbert to gasp again and see black spots as air was slowly blocked off. The other didn't even note the hand around the ankle. "If you let me keep our beloved musician."

Who had managed to get to his feet, though leaning heavily onto the wall beside him. He was panting and tears were still rolling over his cheeks but he stood. He was able to get away. If he could only…

He turned around, slowly and troublesome, and was met by a strong and cold hand on his back. For a moment he feared it was Ivan and by instinct, his body froze and eyes closed.

"_Es ist nur mir_, Ludwig," the German whispered and took his one arm around the brunette's shoulder, supporting him on the way out.

A sob shook the smaller man's body and he let it out with a pained sound, causing the Russian to look at him.

He made a bestial sound and seemed to forget the man beneath him as he stepped down completely and jumped both of the fleeing men.

Gilbert was unable to breathe for a long second and pain nearly caused him to faint when he felt windpipe and veins be stomped upon.

The German somehow managed to land over the aristocrat, an outstretched arm keeping him from touching the already frail man's body. The man was whimpering and instinctively curled up on himself on the floor, hiding his face in his hands.

Ivan was just beside them, a hand tangled in the blond hair usually so neat now ruffled.

"Let go of me," the blue eyed man snarled and pointed the gun at the insane person's head, pressing it right into the temple.

To his horror, Ivan was still smiling, the smile that promised great pain and told he had really lost it. He had been enjoying this all the time. It had all been fun to him. Until now. When they tried to take his musician from him. His Austrian.

"I can't allow you that," he whispered and twisted his wrist in a way it wasn't supposed to be able to so Ludwig had to follow his move to not break his neck and he was forced away from Roderich as they both stood.

The cold metal barrel of the gun still pressed against Ivan's lightly pounding temple but he didn't seem to notice it. He took his pipe and kicked the Prussian away like he was a doll, ignoring the muffled scream of pain the albino let out.

The German internally begged Francis was on his way back to support them as he made a painful move that caused his already crushed shoulder to hurt even more. But he kept it hidden, had promised himself not to show weakness. He couldn't afford that in the Russian's company. And not in a fight. Especially not in a fight with the Russian, when he was on a mission. Soldiers didn't do that.

"Go now and I will not harm you any further," Ivan whispered into the blond's ear, turning him around swiftly so he had caught the man's arms on his back and pressed him against the wall, "or stay here and suffer unbearable pain. Your choice. That also applies to your brother," he added, chuckling lightly and looked at the albino who was getting to his feet, good hand massaging the neck. It felt broken but he knew it wasn't.

"Come, _Bruder_," the Prussian mumbled, voice hoarse and dark from anger and pain. His eyes found the crying aristocrat on the floor and he knew they weren't able to do anything now. They would have to have the world behind them before attacking again.

"_Nein,_" the blond just hissed and kicked hard backwards, hitting the bigger man's shin and actually got him to show a bit of pain. He was rewarded with getting his head smashed into the wall.

"I didn't quite hear you," Ivan chirped and still smiled, eyes showing joy and amusement equal to a child in a huge candy store. He smashed the German's head into the wall again, this time creating a small crack in the cement, blood starting to trickle down the man's face.

"Come on, _Bruder_," Gilbert repeated and glared at the Russian's back as he moved towards the door, walking around the now silent Austrian. His knee was still bleeding and tears still trailing down his face. "We need the rest to take him down, they need to know of this."

"No!" One voice yelled it, the other snarled it. Both of the Germans looked at the aristocrat, shocked to find he had been the one yelling.

"No," he then whispered and looked up at the Prussian, the man who was both a friend and an enemy. "They… They can't know of this. _B-Bitte_, don't tell them."

"But, Roderich, we can't just-" Ludwig's head was sent into the wall again and he began seeing stars, the world spinning.

"I think you should follow our clever Austrian. I could easily," He forced the gun out of the German's hand and pointed it at the man's temple, finger already on the trigger, "make a 'wrong' move, _da_!"

"Don't you fucking dare!" the Prussian shouted. Ivan's smile widened and his eyes shone with joy. "Don't you fucking dare shoot him!"

"What is that? We still have some emotions left, _da_?"

"Unlike others," the German growled and threw his head backwards, hitting the Russian in the nose and was kicked in the back of his knees, gun pressing firmer against the temple. "Why don't you just pull the trigger if you're so eager to?" he whispered and suppressed a gasp of pain. It was a challenge, he was testing the other.

"Because, you filthy, little, sadistic, mass-murdering idiot," Ivan answered and jerked the blond back, threw him to the floor, "as much as I want to kill you I can't. It's not a matter of strength, you know that, it's purely a matter of principles."

"Like you have any!"

"Now, be nice, _da_! I'm nice to you, so you be nice to me, _da_!"

The Prussian knew he couldn't run off with the musician on the floor, both because of his destroyed hand and also because of the brunette's state and Ivan seeming to watch their every move.

"Ivan, let go of him, we're leaving," he snarled and put a reassuring hand on Roderich's shoulder. "We'll be back, Specs, I promise you." The man simply whimpered and curled even more up onto himself, still hiding his face in his hands.

There was a long silence where Ludwig and Ivan just looked at each other, hateful eyes against amused eyes. The blond finally gave up, much to his annoyance and he felt the Russian let go of him, the gun disappearing under his coat.

"A little souvenir, _da_!"

The German didn't seem to like it but was forced out when his brother grabbed his shoulder and moved him out, sending the bigger man a glare promising death and pain.

When they were gone, Ivan looked down and saw the Austrian look at him with scared and horrified eyes.

"S-Sorry, M-Master," he whispered and closed his eyes, preparing himself for the punishment he knew was coming. He waited for a long time – meaning two or three seconds – before he dared to look up again, dared to find the other pair of violet orbs. He felt no pain.

The other pair that was filled with anger and joy at the same time, causing the Russian to look even more insane. His hand still held around the pipe and it was lifted again.

Roderich whimpered and let his eyelids fall down again, waiting for the hit. But it didn't come. He didn't feel the cold metal hit him.

Instead he heard the significant sound of the object dropping to the floor and a single step was taken towards him.

Then the big hands were on him and though he tried to flinch away they didn't let go of him. He dared not open his eyes and look at the man. His body was tense in Ivan's grip as he was carried away from the hallway.

He heard doors be opened and closed with great force, enough to be able to pull them off their hinges but they remained in place.

"W-Where are we going, Master?" the Austrian whispered and opened his eyes just as he saw an unfamiliar door be opened and he was brought inside, Ivan still carrying him bridal style before dropping him on a big bed.

Roderich whimpered a bit in shock and pain. His knee was still bleeding and it stained the duvet and sheets so neatly done. Tears were falling from his eyes as he looked up at the Russian.

Fury was to be found in his eyes when he stared at the man he would claim as his. How dare he forget his embarrassment like that, how dare he get so comfortable with that woman?

"You were too much into it," he growled and got on the bed beside the musician, sitting on his knees.

"I-I'm sorry, Master," Roderich whispered and forced himself to continue looking into the Russian's eyes, not wanting to think about possible punishment. "I… I-"

"Shut up." It was a low whisper but held more power and horror than when he was yelling. It was quiet, though very angry. "I don't want to hear your petty excuses."

He lifted his hand, balled it into a fist and looked ready to smash it down into the musician's face. His eyes were glistening in a way that promised great harm and showed the hatred he felt.

"How dare you get so close to her?" Once more a whisper, fist still high in the air.

The Austrian whimpered again and closed his eyes, body trembling wildly. He was scared, oh he was so scared. He feared the pain he knew he would feel for this sooner or later and he feared for his knee. He didn't know what was wrong with it or why it was bleeding, he didn't even know why it hurt so much. He just knew it probably wasn't good. And he feared the man would… would touch him like _that_ again.

And he was confused as well. Why would the Russian command him to kiss his ex-wife if he knew he would be pissed about it? What could his reasons possibly be? But he didn't have the courage to ask right now.

"I asked you a question. Pet." No longer a whisper, now a snarl.

"I-I… Master, please, understand, she's my ex-wife and I still love her," the brunette whispered and placed his hands on his face, shielding him from the other's view. "There is no way I wouldn't get clo-"

"That's not what I meant," Ivan growled, "I meant how dare you get so close to her – while the others were present? Aren't you awkward with kissing people in the presence of others?"

"… Oh." The Austrian looked at his palms, confusion to be seen had the eyes been visible. Well… It was true he didn't like getting so close to someone if it was in the presence of others but this time… He had been so scared, he had silently been begging the woman to help him. And while he had forgotten everything when kissing her, forgotten his fear and the mental pain, he had enjoyed it. He had really liked kissing his ex-wife, like they had done so many times.

He had sought comfort in her, safety he hadn't felt for a long time. That's why he had gotten so close to her. That was why he had deepened the kiss.

But this he couldn't tell the Russian by his side. Of course he couldn't. He would be beaten to mash.

But what should he then say, what should he then tell him?

"I…" he started, swallowed something. "I don't know, Master. I don't know what got into me. I'm sorry."

A dark and dangerous growl erupted from the other's throat and the fist was swung towards Roderich's face. He stopped it, though, only millimetres from the target.

The Russian's body was trembling and his eyes glowing with hatred. And yet, there was something else in them. Something you would define as confusion, regret, self-hatred, sorrow.

His heart beat rapidly, pumping blood through his veins along with emotions the insane side of him had taught him to suppress. But right now, the insanity was gone. It was the human side that was controlling him and his actions at the moment.

His mind wandered to his actions so many months ago as he watched the brunette curl up on himself in fear and pain, still crying, tears continuing their trail down his cheeks.

He was cruel. He was a cruel and harming beast, he didn't care for others. His attention was always on the Chinese, making others believe that man was his weakness. But the truth was a very different one. That he had only ever cared for the Austrian in front of him.

And he had harmed him greatly. Several times. First with the rape and afterwards with the beating, the mental pain he always caused him. He had been so cruel and evil to him. He had been the kind of man others always thought him to be.

He slowly let the hand fall and it unfolded, palm resting on the bloodied sheets while his eyes sought for something else to look at. It was suddenly hard to watch the Austrian.

"Do you want help with the knee?" he mumbled and got off the bed. The shifting in weight made Roderich move his hands and seek for the Russian, confused by the words. What…?

"I-I… I'm sorry, Master…?" he whispered and looked at the man. The eyes were shining but it was no longer with anger or amusement, nor was it insane joy and childishness. It was with emotions so unusual for the other. Self-hatred and sorrow, regret, confusion.

The Austrian was shocked enough to forget his own pain and sat up, his leg uncomfortably stiff and cold but he paid it no attention.

His attention was on Ivan and the way the man felt. He felt wrong, the man was not himself.

"Master?" he whispered and stretched out a shaking hand, trying to touch the man's cheeks. His hand was instantly grabbed, though, and he gasped.

"Did you want help with the knee?" he growled and turned his back on the smaller nation after having let go of the hand again, looking into his mirror. He stared at himself, the eyes showing what he denied to ever feel or have felt. A low snarl escaped his throat and he sent a fist to the glass, causing it to shatter in a thousand pieces. One of them cut into his hand and started bleeding but he ignored it.

He was angry once more, insanity slowly gaining control over him again. The sane part of him wanted him to stay hurt, feel the pain in his heart his thoughts caused him. That part wanted him to remain human, remain sane and not just give up and let madness fill his world. That part wanted him to stay like this, remember the bad things he had ever done so he could learn from them, never do it again.

And the insane part told him to give in, let the insanity consume him. It promised him ease and fun, he wouldn't have to worry about anything if he let the mad part control him. Others wouldn't be shocked, they wouldn't mock him if he remained insane.

And most important of all; he wouldn't feel pain. He wouldn't feel the pain he caused himself by doing all these things to others. To Toris. To Roderich. Nothing would be painful, it would only be fun. He wouldn't feel the pain everything caused him, he could take cover under the mask of madness. 'Yes, that was most definitely the best choice,' his brain whispered to him and started to cloud his mind. It was like a fog covering his thoughts, his mind, his brain, everything, grasping him and dragging him down.

He leant against the broken mirror as if insanity getting to him again caused him physical pain. His eyes were closed and breaths taken deeply. It was close, the sweet fog almost covering him up entirely. He could nearly feel it hold him, hug him tightly when…

A hand was put on his shoulder. A shaking and uncertain hand. But a hand he knew so well despite it never having touched him.

"Master?" Roderich. The Austrian. The man he loved and wanted to be his forever.

Ivan looked back over his shoulder, finding the familiar face shining with worry and confusion. The blond flinched away from his touch and walked towards the door.

"I'll make Toris fix your knee. You will be unable to do the chores with a split kneecap," he mumbled and opened the door. He stood there for a moment before turning around and sending the confused Austrian a last look, filled with dangerous sorrow and pain. Emotions others should never see, emotions he shouldn't feel.

"You will be sleeping here tonight. It's my room, so don't touch anything but the bed, you hear me?"

Roderich simply stood by the crushed mirror, shoes breaking big pieces into smaller pieces. He didn't move.

The Russian growled and took a step backwards, towards the man who still didn't move.

"Get on the bed," he whispered and took another step, finally getting a reaction from the brunette.

The man walked to the side, grimacing in pain but still managed to get onto the bed again, eyes never moving from his Master.

"If I catch you in walking around the house before Toris checks you knee…" He didn't finish the sentence but he didn't have to, either. It was clear what amount of pain would be put on the brunette if he disobeyed.

"Y-Yes, Master," Roderich whispered and closed his eyes, sighing deeply and suddenly felt tired, sleepy. And scared. He now knew what was wrong his knee. The kneecap was split, no wonder it hurt like hell.

Then the Russian left the room, closing the door behind him and left Roderich to complete silence and darkness.

A silence in which the Austrian quickly fell asleep. A sleep full of bad dreams and nightmares. One more confusing and painful than the other.

When he woke the next day, he found Toris standing next to him, visibly shaking. A few blink of his eyes and Roderich could see the Russian stand right behind him, hovering over him like a bad and silent omen.

The Russian smiled upon seeing the aristocrat's eyes open. But it wasn't a happy smile. Neither was it a smile that promised comfort or safety. It was the insane smile that told Ivan had resigned from sanity, once more hiding himself from the real world and the pain it caused him.

"Good, you're awake! Toris will take care of you from now on, _da_!"

And before Roderich was completely awake, before he was able to comprehend what was really going on, Ivan had left again. It was now only the Austrian and the Lithuanian in the room. And Roderich was not even sure about where he was. He knew he had fallen asleep in the Russian's bedroom but he couldn't see if he was still here or if he had been moved.

He didn't think about it, though. The bed was as soft as he remembered and it was the same broken mirror he could vaguely make out in the other end of the room.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Austria?" the other brunette asked him in a low tone. His green eyes quickly moved to the violet pair before pulling a large box onto the bed.

Just then, pain presented itself in the Austrian's one knee and he couldn't suppress a gasp and closed his eyes tightly.

"S-Splendid," he gasped and instinctively grabbed around his hurting knee, not noticing how his fingers were smothered with blood.

"I clearly see that." Toris opened the box and got out several tissues and small towels along with some tings Roderich had no desire to find out what was used for. Among them was a long and thin needle. The standing man took it and put the end into a small jar of clear liquid, sucking up a decent amount of it before looking at the hurt man.

"I hope you aren't afraid of needles," he said and gently removed the aristocrat's hands from the knees, quickly and expertly inspecting the damage.

The Austrian shook his head and leant back in the bed. No, he was not afraid of needles. He only feared marine animals and he hoped and believed there would be none of such things in the Russian's home.

"Then I will give you an injection of local anaesthesia. It will maybe hurt a bit, but that all depends on your pain tolerance level."

"Please," the aristocrat mumbled when he felt needle dig into the flesh around his knee. He didn't even tense the muscles like many others did. "I'm used to much worse pain. You surely must be as well, I trust." Living with Russia and all.

The Lithuanian nodded and pulled out the long and thin object after having emptied it into the other's body.

"I can't deny it. It will take a few minutes for the anaesthesia to work properly. Could you in the meantime tell me what happened between you and Mr. Russia?" He looked at the musician's curiously and took out some more equipment from the box.

He shook his head and thought back. It was not a topic he was happy to pick up again. He wasn't even completely sure why the Russian had asked him to kiss Elizabeta if he knew he was going to be mad about it. He… He didn't know.

"That is okay. I didn't expect you to." The words weren't evil at all, not even the tone held any signs of hostility or any of the sort but yet Roderich couldn't help feel a bit talked down to.

There was silence between the two until the anaesthesia started to work. The Austrian nodded to Toris to show it and he received one as well.

Roderich made sure to look at the ceiling and think of anything else than whatever the Lithuanian was doing with his knee. There was no way he would be able to look at the surgery performed on him and he wasn't sure how he managed to remain conscious through it.

Not that it hurt. The anaesthesia was strong and caused his leg to be completely numb so he couldn't feel a thing except for a vague, spinning sensation that didn't really bother him. It was about the same sensation he got when having played the piano for too many hours without a break.

Meanwhile he messed around with the Austrian's knee, Toris had experience enough to maintain a conversation. His fingers were quick and moved expertly, every now and taking a small break to wipe sweat off his forehead.

It might be he was used to patch the other Baltics together but that didn't mean he wasn't nervous while doing so. He always was. Living together with the Russian for so long made you paranoid and nervous about everything you did.

And he was of course also nervous for making a mistake, though he had never done so. He had never made a mistake while fixing one of the others but he was still nervous it would happen one day.

Despite this, he managed to talk friendly with his patient. They talked about each other's countries and how it was living there, what their favourite animals from their own country were and those kinds of things. It wasn't a deep and emotional conversation at all but it was enough for both men to get the feeling they got to know each other a bit better.

There was no laughing at any time, neither was there any smile. They were both completely serious while talking.

Roderich had no idea how long it took for the other get his knee done. Neither had he any idea what the time was. Just as he had no idea what kind of treatment he could now expect from the Russian.

When he asked Toris, he just shook his head and answered with a low "No difference. He will treat you like he always does." before he put a thick bandage around the Austrian's knee and ordered him to stand.

Roderich did so and although it required support from the other brunette, he managed to do so. He swayed a bit and held onto the Lithuanian to remain balance.

After about half a minute the other slowly backed away, one step at a time, ready to grab the Austrian if he made signs of falling. But he didn't.

The musician stood by himself and although the swaying increased he didn't fall.

"Great," the Lithuanian said with a lot of encouragement and looked like he meant it. "I suppose it is too much to ask for you to walk?"

It took a bit for the man to do it, but when he put one foot in front of the other he lost balance. Toris was instantly in front of him and grabbed his shoulder, showing surprising strength when he got the other to stand up again.

"I… I guess you're right," Roderich mumbled in annoyance and sighed deeply, falling back onto the bed. He hated being unable to walk. It reminded him of the time he had been forced to spend in a wheelchair. And that was a time he wouldn't think about. It had been a horrible time.

The door was suddenly slammed open and no one else but their favourite Russian stood in the door, smiling his usual wide and childish smile.

"_Dobroye utro_!" he chirped and looked at them. The smile did not falter for a second as he saw both of the brunettes shiver and instantly become the fearful men they always were in the other's presence. "I hope you have slept well, _da_! Can you walk?"

"N-No, master," Roderich mumbled and looked into the floor, fidgeting with his feet. Thinking of whatever had been done with his knee it was impressive he could still move the foot on that leg.

"What a shame!" Ivan exclaimed, not looking like he meant it and walked closer. He walked up to the Austrian and pulled him to his feet. "But you will in time, _da_! You just need to exercise it!"

"Y-Yes, master." The musician was forced to walk out of the room as Ivan 'gently' poked him with the pipe.

"Toris, make us some breakfast!" Toris nodded and snaked past the others, down a set of stairs and to the left.

Roderich leaned against the wall for support as he was driven out of the Russian's bedroom, stopping by the stairs. He couldn't descend those with his leg. He started shivering. There were two options now: ask Ivan for help or just get it over with. And while Roderich was sure his leg would fail him and he would tumble down the stairs, he didn't want to ask the other for help.

So he simply bit his lips and grabbed the banisters for support as he took the first step. His knee screamed in protest and he couldn't hold back a whimper of pain though he quickly covered it with the other hand. But it was too late. Ivan had heard it and he tilted his head lightly, the smile widening. And yet he didn't do anything. He simply tapped the musician's shoulder a bit harder with the pipe and forced him to go on.

Roderich wanted to scream loudly in agony when he took two more steps down, every time careful not to put too much of his weight onto the bad leg. When reaching the fourth step, though, he couldn't continue. His knee was practically splitting itself in protest and even if it was a question about saving his own life, he wouldn't be able to continue.

Tears were streaming down his face but he didn't make a sound. His eyes were closed as he took a deep breath and put the bad leg in front of him, ready to take a new step, when…

He fell. His knee simply gave in and stopped working, causing him to lose balance and yelp in surprise and fear, desperately flailing his arms to grab the banister and not fall too far.

But a big and cold hand grabbed his shoulder before he got that far. Ivan chuckled loudly as he held onto the aristocrat and picked him up like he had the weight of a feather.

"You're so clumsy, _da_~!" he chirped and carried him bridal style down the stairs.

"I-I'm not clu-clumsy," the brunette whispered and instantly tried to get away from Ivan's grasp.

"_Da_, you are! But it's not like I dislike it~" The Russian had no intention to let go of the smaller man. Not now when he was having fun~

**Sooo… Feel free to chop my head off for the thing with Hungary and Austria. I am ready to do it myself, but… oh well. I couldn't think of any other way to make Russia lose his mind that would involve Austria like this… Besides, I have figured out a way to involve it later.  
>And yes. Lithuania is kind of the doctor in that house. So he can fix like, everything. I believe he is the one to patch up all of the others when they are beaten. He also helped Poland a lot, so yeah. I am ready to take hits. <strong>

**Anyway, I don't know how much longer this will be. And I will stop trying to guess. Because shit happens all the time in this thing. Hope you enjoyed reading! **

Translations:  
><em>Es ist nur mich<em> = It is just me  
><em>Bruder<em> = Brother  
><em>Nein<em> = No  
><em>Dobroye utro<em> = Good morning!  
><em>Da<em> = Yes


	9. As he is sent away

**Sooo, that was fourth month… And if any of you wonder what the fuck I was thinking about when making Roddy and Lizzy kiss? I have no idea. None at all. Other than I suddenly wanted to write a kissing scene and… well, it seemed like it could be a trigger for Russia's anger. So… yeah… Anyway! Fifth month! We're getting closer and my nerves are almost non-existing, haha~! **

****The rest of the fourth month and the beginning of the fifth was no happy time for Roderich. Toris had been right in what he had said; Roderich was indeed treated like he always was. And even if that was different than the others it wasn't pleasant. Far from.

He still had to do the chores and things such as 'rest' or 'time for healing' for his knee didn't fit the Russian's plans. The brunette was simply ordered around as usual and if anything had changed, it would be that he received many more orders than normally. And that he received a lot more vulgar offers. And that Ivan seemed immensely happy when doing this.

And yet, something changed in the last week of the fifth month. Ivan's behaviour became different. The man seemed to change completely. He was suddenly caring and nursing around Roderich and he nearly wasn't cruel or evil towards him.

Actually, it was quite the opposite. Ivan asked how he felt and how his knee was doing, if he was feeling okay, if he wanted to rest a bit, perhaps play the piano?

This, of course, knocked Roderich completely out of it. The change in behaviour was pleasant, it was, but also very unnerving. Why did he change like that? Why did he stop being threatening and evil?

As Ivan slowly started to become a different man, Roderich tried to keep him at a good distance. He was instantly aware it had to mean something bad, that Ivan was plotting something against him that would cause him immense pain.

The Baltics agreed. One day Roderich decided to ask them if they had ever experienced something like this. They hadn't. The new behaviour was also completely new to them. They had noted it as well and though Roderich was the only who received this special kind of attention the others had also noticed it.

Somehow, though, the Russian always managed to sniff out Roderich. The musician never had a safe spot where he could hide. Every time the bigger and colder nation found him he would chuckle and drag the Austrian out from his hide, then ask why he was even hiding instead of having fun with the others.

Finally learning to accept the change, Roderich began to find it comforting. Actually… started to like it, despite it being so unnatural and his instincts still screaming it was a trap, that Ivan would do something to break him down even more. But he… he couldn't.

It was so rare for him to be cared for like that, so rare to receive gentleness. In this house, at least. The elder sister was kind to him when they occasionally met but it wasn't that often. And Roderich had by time learned to avoid all of the others, except for the Lithuanian. Toris was kind as well and he seemed pretty honest and clever.

But as the Russian became the same, kind and caring, even if only towards the Austrian, Roderich slowly gave in and let his guards down. He was still scared as ever but it somehow didn't feel so intimidating to have the giant man hover around him all the time. Because he was. He was practically stalking Roderich. And though Roderich liked his privacy, he didn't feel like the Russian was breaking it.

It was actually very weird and he felt rather uncomfortable about it but he couldn't do anything to change it. To have Ivan so close to you without finding it particularly scary… that was freaky. That freaked Roderich out.

And then, the last day in the fifth month, Ivan caught Roderich in his study when he was cleaning, dragging the vacuum cleaner after him and once more removing pieces of broken bottles, every now and then gritting his teeth in pain from the knee.

The brunette hadn't heard him as he entered because the vacuum cleaner made too much noise and he only noticed Ivan when the man hugged him from behind. This caused the smaller of them to yelp in surprise and try to flinch away. He was still not accustomed to the Russian being so kind and affectionate towards him, let alone the close contact.

But… the man seemed even more different right now. Roderich knew he wasn't drunk. The bottles he was cleaning up now were a few days old. Ivan had given him a day off yesterday because Roderich felt sick and it was only Roderich who cleaned the study which meant that it hadn't been touched since Ivan had been drunk a few days ago. And his breath didn't stink of alcohol.

Now, though… now Ivan was so… not like himself. He was burying his head in the brown hair in front of him and his breathing was fast.

"M-Master?" the Austrian whispered and stood completely still, too shocked to dare move.

He didn't receive an answer. The man was still hugging him tightly, arms tightening the grip even more. Then Ivan mumbled something Roderich didn't quite understand. It wasn't even clear what language he was speaking.

"I… I didn't quite hear that, Master."

"Go… Go back."

The Austrian's heart skipped several beats, nearly stopped beating but his pulse, ironically, accelerated. W…what?

"I-I… What are you saying?"

The Russian moved closer to the other, hugging him tighter. His nose dug into the soft and silky hair, eyes closed but mind clear. If… if he let Roderich go back, then… maybe there would be a bigger chance the man would love him. He desperately needed Roderich to love him. Now, when having had him near for almost half a year, he couldn't be without him.

It was impossible for him.

If Roderich chose to run away… Ivan didn't know what to do. He loved the other too much, had found him too cute and adorable and… and so Roderich. He couldn't live without him now. It would be too much.

But he had to… to let go. If he wanted to make the Austrian love him he would have to show him he could also be kind, let him go. Under certain terms and conditions, of course, but go none the less.

"I said go back. Take… take a plane to Vienna. Go back." It was nothing but a whisper but Roderich still heard the words. But he wasn't sure he believed them. What… what would Ivan do if he actually went? It was a test… the Russian was testing his loyalty.

"But-"

"I won't accept a no. I have already booked your ticket." A bundle of papers was then forced into the confused Austrian's hands. "Your plane departures tomorrow. Until then, I expect you to do your chores without questions."

And then, as sudden as the man had appeared he was gone again. Roderich now stood alone in the study with the papers. He quickly looked them over and felt blood leave his face. They… they were real.

Everything was there. The boarding pass, his personal papers –where Ivan had gotten those from he didn't know and didn't want to, either – visa and… well, everything. There were even papers to a certain taxi that would take him from the airport to his home.

His legs buckled and the knees gave in. He fell to the floor, eyes locked on the papers. He… he was going home. Tomorrow he would see everyone again. Ludwig, Gilbert, Francis. Antonio. Elizabeta. The Italians. All of them.

He would go back to his beloved Vienna with its wonderful nature and culture. The history. The cheerful and mannered people who didn't hurt others. He would return.

As much as this thought cheered him up and made tears of happiness creep into his eyes he couldn't help thinking… why? Why did Ivan allow him to go home? Good behaviour?

His eyes now carefully looked over the tickets and what he held in his hands. Even the number on the gate his plane would departure from was there. His seat. _Directions for the taxi driver.  
><em>  
>The musician got up from the floor and wiped away the tears, ran for his room where he put the papers on the desk, then leaned against the chair, breathing deeply.<p>

Okay, now, take it easy. It means nothing. It's just an attempt to be kind from Ivan's side. Nothing more, nothing less.

This, of course, didn't help. Ivan being kind was like Francis not flirting with everything alive; unimaginable. And yet, this was what Roderich was experiencing. How… that didn't fit with anything!

He sat down in confusion, both elbows on the desk and head buried in the hands. How should he… what would the proper reaction be? He could be jumping around with happiness, singing loudly in his language, dance around. All those kind of things.

And he could be wary. Suspicious and careful about this, why Ivan suddenly let him gain freedom again.

He sat by the desk for a few minutes, thoughts circling and doing absolutely nothing to help him. His eyes were on the papers all the while and when he finally got up, he put them in a drawer. He indeed had his work to do.

At the end of the day, he was once more surprised by Ivan. This time in his room just as he had changed to got to bed. His plane departed very early in the morning so he would have to go to bed early as well.

He had just put on the shirt and buttoned it as the door opened and Ivan stepped inside, holding a long and thick coat in his arms. He handed it to the aristocrat who looked even more surprised now than before.

"Master," he whispered and put the coat over the back of the chair. "Why do you let me go home? For how long? Is there anything I simply have to do while I'm home?"

The man simply shook his head and was about to step outside when Roderich grabbed his arm.

"Ivan, please, answer me. I'm so confused!"

They looked at each other for a moment before Ivan looked away. It dawned on Roderich that he had talked to the Russian without addressing him 'master' and though it shocked him he also let it pass. Not important.

"It's nothing compared to what I feel, I think," he muttered and gently, actually _gently_, stroked the Austrian's cheek and hair. "My confusion… Heh. Never felt anything like it. Sleep well, Roderich. You have a long trip ahead of you tomorrow." His fingers… so soft and caring. Cold, yes, indeed, but… had they been warm it would have been the best sensation the Austrian could think of.

"Wait! Will anyone follow me to the airport?" He got no answer. Ivan just closed the door and left Roderich alone with even greater confusion.

-

The next morning came too quickly. He was practically dragged out of his bed by a young but very strong woman.

"What?!" he shouted with a hoarse voice, thick with sleep. It took him a few seconds to blink enough times to be able to see anything and when he could, he saw the younger sister stand above him, a leg on each side on his body. A knife was in each of her hands and her eyes shone with murder.

"You're taking brother away from us," she hissed and pointed the knife at Roderich's throat.

"What are you saying? Of course I am not! I'm actually leaving today!"

"And who do you think will accompany you, stupid man?"

"I don't know! Toris or Eduard or Ravis! Maybe your sister, I don't know! I haven't been explained anything!"

The sheets were stabbed by a long knife, cutting deep down into the soft material.

A loud shriek followed.

"You are idiotic!" the woman screamed and fell to her knees, one on each side on the brunette. "Why are you so stupid? Can't you understand anything?!"

"Stop being tricky and mysterious and just tell me what the god damn is on your mind!" Roderich snarled and tried to throw her off but she was a lot stronger than you would think and she remained seated on his stomach. The other knife was buried in the sheets, effectively trapping the Austrian.

A smile appeared on her face, causing her to look nearly as insane as her brother. Her teeth were dimly lit by the moon when she bared them, snarling at him.

She withdrew the knives and got off the bed, staring at him, murder still fresh in her eyes.

"You're an idiot through and through," she hissed and went to the door. She grabbed the handle and was about to go out before Roderich did something he had never done to anyone except Gilbert and Elizabeta. He grabbed a pillow from behind his head and threw it at her, actually hitting her square in the face as she had sent him a last deadly glare.

She looked surprised at first, then it was pure anger that filled her eyes. She whirled around and jumped towards the Austrian but was stopped by a loud roar coming from the door she had just left.

Both of them looked back and found Ivan. He had opened the door silently and now stood there, watching them.

"Bela! What are you doing?" he yelled and marched over to the woman in two, long steps, grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her away from his Austrian. He vaguely noted how he called the man 'his', though decided to not pay it further attention.

"Brother!" she exclaimed and hugged him the instant his hands touched her. He looked afraid for a second but then forced away with his own weird gentleness.

"Why are you here, why are you not sleeping?" She sent a look at Roderich in the bed and even if the room was only dimly lit by the moon outside it was easy to see her face and eyes held absolute contempt for him.

"If you hate me so much, why aren't you busy hugging the pillow I'm sure you have of your brother?" the Austrian asked, finding himself unusually brave, for no reason at all. He was in the same room as two maniacs – though one seemed to be changing personality – and he was unarmed and an easy prey.

The woman agreed in this and let go of her brother to attack the brunette instead, though she never got closer than a step before Ivan had pulled her back and seemed to scold her. He used his own language so Roderich wasn't sure this was the case but the Russian was yelling pretty loudly. Not that it seemed to bother the woman that much. She just looked to the side, pouting lightly.

"Get out," he then growled and sent her out of the room with a firm yet kind push. She obeyed but not before she had sent him a last desperate and absolutely obsessed look before the door was closed behind her and the Russian and Austrian were alone.

The bigger man stood by the door, holding it closed with his body. It was obvious the sister was still on the other side; you could hear her unnerving chant of 'marry me, marry me, marry me' and though Ivan looked scared he didn't move.

Not before the Austrian got up from the bed. His legs were slowly and carefully swung over the edge of the furniture and despite the pain it clearly caused him he stood up, a hand grabbing the table for support.

He looked at the other man with confused and suspicious eyes. The other didn't move an inch, simply looked at him.

"What are you up to, Ivan? Why are you letting me go home? Why is your sister in my room in the middle of the damn night? What is going on?" He needed answers. He desperately needed to know, he wouldn't last a month without knowing these things. It would be unbearable to remain in Vienna if he hadn't gotten those questions answered.

Just as he had finished speaking something seemed to click inside his mind. The pieces in this hurricane of a jigsaw puzzle matched up, was put back together.

This was just another one of Ivan's tricks. This was yet another test to make him even more confused and insecure. He was only aiming to make him stay here, in this house.

But… Something still didn't fit.

Why would Ivan do all of these things in the first place? The man had claimed it had only been to force an alliance with him. But as far as Roderich know the Russian wasn't in war with anyone at the moment and neither had he been acting like he planned something. Though, of course, the man was unpredictable, you never knew where you had him. He could very well be planning a big war without anyone knowing.

And somehow, Roderich believed this wasn't the explanation either. Ivan wasn't aiming to start another war. He had not only done all of this to form an alliance.

There was something else behind it.

But what?

Ivan stared at Roderich for a few minutes. Total silence. Only the vague sound of nails scraping the door from outside was heard.

None of them looked away. None of them let the other know they knew a maniac was on the other side of the door. None of them let the other know they both knew one of them was also a maniac, a psychopath you shouldn't fight.

Ivan acted like he hadn't heard the other's questions, though his eyes glistened in an unusual way. They were clear, Roderich now saw when his own eyes had gotten used to the darkness around them. Very clear. Shiny.

The Austrian was about to open his mouth but the bigger man stopped him with a simple gesture of the hand. 

"We have to go," he mumbled and went to the desk, took the papers from the drawers – not that Roderich knew how the man had known they were there – and put them into his own coat before putting the one he had lent the brunette on the other. "It's a long way to the airport and we have to arrive early."

"Wait," Roderich said and gasped when he was pulled with the Russian. "Are you going?" If Ivan would take him there and would watch him go back… How would he take it?

"Are you following me?"

"Of course. Who else would?" Ivan knew his musician wasn't smart enough – at least not in this hour of the day – to figure out why Ivan did all of this. That it was because of the love he felt for the smaller. But he would know in time. Ivan didn't know if it would take a long time or not before he told or before Roderich simply figured it out on his own.

And honestly, he didn't know what he preferred. If he wanted to tell it or if he wanted the other to use his intelligence and put the pieces back together.

"But," the brunette started until he was nearly stabbed when they exited the room and went by the Belarussian. He avoided the knives, though, and lashed out at the woman out of pure reflex, not hitting. "I thought-"

"That is unimportant. I'm coming with you. The others have to be fresh and energetic so they can do the chores." There was something in the man's voice Roderich wasn't able to place and frankly, he didn't want to. It was… scary.

So he let it pass and instead followed the man as he was dragged through the long and dark hallways. The paintings were lightened by the moonlight that shone in through the windows and it felt as if the persons in them looked at him, followed him with their unmoving, cold oil-eyes.

He moved closer to the Russian without letting him notice it but this didn't comfort him. Quite the opposite. Ivan was feeling and acting weird. Cold was radiating from him more than usual and it was clear he was lost in thoughts. Especially when he walked into a door.

None of them felt the need or desire to laugh at this stupidity so none did. Ivan simply opened the door and they went through it in silence, going outside.

Roderich instantly found out why he had been given an extra coat. It was freezing cold outside and his teeth started to chatter. His hands grabbed around his own body, trying to bring him more warmth but it was useless.

Not even when the Russian looked at him and put an arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer, did he felt warmer. He had known Russia was a cold land but he hadn't expected it to be this bad, damn it!

They reached a big and old-looking car and quickly got inside. Ivan didn't seem the least bit bothered by the cold but he was of course also used to it.

"There's a blanket in the back," he said and started the car with a few twists of the keys as the vehicle didn't want to start in the first try.

Roderich looked over the shoulder and saw a big and chequered blanket. He took it and despite it being cold enough to freeze his hands off he held it tightly, body quivering and teeth chattering.

When the car finally started and they got moving Ivan turned on the heat and luckily it didn't take long before the Austrian felt his body relax as the muscles were thawed. As this happened he wrapped himself in the blanket which also quickly got warm and it was a relief beyond his comprehension how comfortable it was.

Since when had a warm blanket felt so wonderful? Since when had it brought him a feeling of safety and comfort like this? He couldn't remember and he couldn't help a small smile find its way to his face, nuzzling the soft material with his face. Aah, so nice.

"Do you like it?" the man by his side asked. He nodded vaguely and looked down at it. It looked very old and worn, like it had been used a lot for many, many years. "Keep it, then."

Roderich's eyes widened, then closed. Okay. Deep breaths. Ivan is just trying to be friendly, don't think he means anything bad with it. It's just a blanket, it won't kill you. Unless you are stupid enough to be tangled in it and it ends up strangling you.

"Are… are you sure?" Ivan nodded, made a turn to the right.

"_Da_." That was the only thing he said and though his voice didn't sound annoyed or angry in any way Roderich was still confused, unnerved and slightly scared. Of everything. So much was going on and he wasn't sure he could really comprehend it all.

After that silence once more reigned between them. Every now and then Roderich felt his eyes close and he dozed off for a few minutes before sitting up with a jerk, looking around with a wild look.

Ivan let a hand pet his hand. "You can sleep if you want to," he said, "It will take a while before we arrive at the airport."

The Austrian's body stiffened when he was touched but when realizing it was only a friendly gesture his body relaxed again. He nodded and shifted a bit in the seat so he sat more comfortable and it didn't take long before he was fast asleep, wrapped in the now warm blanket.

He didn't know for how long they were driving. He just knew that when he woke up his body was aching from sleeping in such an awkward and unusual position. A low growl escaped him as he sat up and stretched his body.

The Russian by his side just looked at him with those weird eyes Roderich was scared more by than by the man's regular eyes. These held so many emotions he wasn't sure he was comfortable with the other feeling.

But hell, why couldn't Ivan be sad once in a while if he felt like that?

… Because he was Ivan. Simple as that. That was the only real reason needed. Because Ivan was the insane, mad Russian that never showed emotions except for joy by other people's pain and misery.

A man like that… how could he possibly feel anything about anything but violence?

Roderich couldn't help his confusion and he was at a loss about what to do now.

So he remained in the car, not getting out even when Ivan asked him to.

"Come on," the man mumbled and grabbed his shoulder rather harshly and dragged him out of the vehicle. It was pitch black outside. Not a single ray of sun or moon. Not even lamp posts lit up the area that was apparently the airport. How the bloody hell were you supposed to navigate in a place like this when you couldn't see anything?

But Ivan apparently knew his way around the place because he took the Austrian through a dark and long area with trees and flowers on each side – Roderich's eyes were slowly getting used to the darkness – and they walked in silence. Suddenly the brunette could see a huge building in front of them. And then there was light. Lots of it.

It was quite a majestic building, really. Big and pretty, yet without being flamboyant. As they got closer, both light and noise increased. Noise from thousands and thousands of people, planes arriving and departing all the time. Cars driving in and out of the parking lot now behind them.

This was an entirely new place for the Austrian and without knowing it he crept closer to the man beside him. That man just smiled weakly, looking down at _his_ brunette, _his_ musician. And don't anyone claim otherwise.

His eyes softened yet another tad when they moved in line to the security. Roderich had no luggage so there was nothing to check in and therefore no reason to stand in line to do just that. That would be a waste of time.

The line slowly moved. The guards were chatting with each other, laughing loudly. Of course in Russian which really unnerved the Austrian. He wasn't used to be surrounded by people speaking a language he didn't understand. It was… scary, at the least. They could be saying anything they wanted without him knowing. It was really uncomfortable.

But as it was finally their turn and Roderich was called forward, he looked back at Ivan, as if to ask permission, even now, outside his house, and the man just nodded. So Roderich stepped forward, nervous and with staggering steps.

One of the guards – a big and muscular man with black hair and green eyes – grinned to his partner and waved the Austrian forward, eyes checking out the musician's body. He then made a gesture that couldn't be misunderstood – not even by Roderich – which caused the brunette to widen his eyes and shake his head, blushing wildly.

The guard moved closer and stroked Roderich's back, nearing his ass when his hand was suddenly gripped by another strong, painfully strong, hand and was forced away.

When the guard looked up to see who had cancelled his ministrations of the Austrian he found Ivan staring down at him with every silent sign that if he didn't get his hands of the man then he would personally make sure they would be chopped off. Along with a broken skull and no genitals.

So the man quickly let go, jumping back in shock and didn't even bother to check the men, just let them through. This little show hadn't been noticed by the other people, which Roderich was quite happy about.

They got through security without any further complications and sat in the waiting area when having found the gate Roderich's plane wold depart from. They sat in silence, not uttering a single word to each other. It was awkward. Very awkward.

The two men waited for about an hour or so before a voice announced that the flight to Vienna, Austria was ready for boarding. Of course in Russian but Ivan had been kind enough to mumble a translation.

Ivan was the first to react and stood up nearly immediately. It took a little longer for the Austrian to get up. He just looked at the Russian, wondering if this was really true or if he would wake up in a few seconds, finding himself lying in Ivan's bed, a smile on his lips because he had thought it to be real.

But the other grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet, not too kindly, and they walked to the line that was already forming. They stood pretty close and this earned them a couple of weird looks from the other humans. Roderich just couldn't bring himself to care.

It was like a dream coming true. He had only dreamt of this day since he had been kept a prisoner at the other's house. It had been his biggest dream to go home and away from Ivan. Never had he ever wanted so desperately to come home.

But now… when they finally stood there, in the airport and he was about to step into the plane that would take him to his lovely Vienna, he was nervous. Anxious. Fearful that the Russian would drag him back with a loud and childish chuckle just when he was about to step into the long hall that would take him to the plane.

It didn't happen.

Instead, the Russian pulled him even closer, using the blanket to partly cover them, as he grabbed the musician's face in his hand, turning it towards him.

And he brought their lips together in a sweet, ever so soft kiss Roderich was sure the man couldn't do. It was… too kind, too gentle and too soft for Ivan. It was wrong in… in a way he didn't seem able to describe. He just stood there, kissing the Russian without knowing time or place, eyes wide open before becoming half-lidded. Heart beating so fast it nearly hurt.

Ivan pushed him away, forcefully but still in that gentle way, and looked down at him. Was that… water in his eyes…? But… no, it was probably just the light or something. Ivan wouldn't cry.

"It's your turn soon," he mumbled and looked away, unwrapped them from the blanket and put it around the Austrian, completely ignoring his confused expression. "You have to… find your passport."

It took about a second or two before Roderich reacted and when he did it was with feverishly movements until he managed to find it in a deep inner pocket of the coat.

He then stared up at the Russian again, forgetting people around him. What… what was this? Why did it feel so right… yet so wrong, to leave him? He was confused, didn't know what to think, what to do.

"_Do svidaniya_, _mein Liebe_."

Then it was Roderich's turn and the Russian nudged him forward. The human looked at his passport and his face, smiled softly and let him pass.

He looked back over his shoulder and saw Ivan stand there, shoulders hanging low, a pained expression on his face. A tear was sliding down his cheek.

"Ivan!"

The man didn't react. He just stared back at the Austrian as he was forced to move forward when the other people did.

**Okay…. So here this is! Short and stuff, sorry. **


	10. As he decides

**SO, you guys! It is finally here! I'm sorry for being a douche and being so slow with this... **

The flight took a long time. A really long time and Roderich was very tired when he returned. He didn't know what time it was and honestly, he didn't really care. He just knew he wanted to sleep in his own bed, with his own pyjamas, in his own sheets and with his own duvet and his own pillow. Everything that was his own. If he could he would have brought his piano into the bed.

Alas, that wasn't possible and the piano wasn't comfortable sleeping on, either. Not that he would ever consider such a thing towards his beloved piano. He would never dream of sleeping on it, it was simply wrong.

He hadn't really slept well for a long time. Not in Ivan's house and definitely not on the plane. It might have been the best seats and the best class and so on but Roderich had been too confused and dizzy to really be able to sleep or just relax.

And now, as he stood in the airport, morning dawning and the sun making itself visible just over the horizon, he was freezing. He was wearing the Russian's big and heavy coat, he was still wrapped in the blanket but yet he was still so cold. His body was shaking and his teeth were clattering, hands rubbing his arms in an attempt to make the blood rush faster and warm his body.

He looked around until he found the taxi driver that would take him to his home. A vague nod in his direction and he started moving towards the human. He had no luggage so it was only himself that needed to be loaded inside the car. It was a very comfortable vehicle and he felt a weak smile spread on his face as he leaned to the side, head against the door and looked out the window.

His country... His home. The only place he longed to be when somewhere else. The streets, the people, the stores, the nature, the flowers and trees, even in the city. How he had wanted to go back. Longed so badly. He never wanted to leave again. He would never go away. He would stay here, in Vienna, for the rest of his life. Except for when at the meetings, of course.

The taxi moved fast and expertly around in the city, navigating through the traffic as easily as a knife cut through warm butter. It was as if the man had never done anything else than drive around in this city. It wasn't that this bothered the Austrian at all; it was just a small thing he noted.

And frankly, he was happy about it. It was nice that the man seemed to know where he was going and it also meant he would be home faster. And he wanted to be home. He so badly wanted to be home, see his big and beautiful house with all its rooms and decorations, his grand living room and ball room which were used way too rarely. His piano's room. He wanted to see it, play it so badly.

But more than that, he just wanted to sleep. He was eager to get home and rest in his own bed. Without any insane Russian lurking over him, the cold breath brushing over his neck, a grin on the other's face.

The car stopped right outside his door and the driver helped him inside, obviously worried about him and wanting to help. But Roderich politely declined his help, saying that he just really needed some sleep. As the taxi driver had already been paid by Ivan, the Austrian could just say goodbye to the man and go inside.

As he did, stepped inside and saw the inside of his so lovely home, he nearly shed a tear. He nearly fell to the floor in relief, in happiness, everything he had thought he would feel he felt. And when he picked himself up and moved through the house slowly, ever so slowly walked around in what others could call a mansion, he looked around as if he hadn't seen all of this before. Like it was all so new to him.

Like he had never really been home.

He looked at all the paintings, all the sculpture, rugs, carpets, all the beauty and elegance everywhere. So unlike Ivan's home. In the most beautiful of ways. How had he not seen the beauty of it all before?

Sure, he had thought 'Oh, this is actually a really pretty painting and it also has a meaning, a story' but he had never really realized how much it actually meant to him. So he used way more time than usually, just staring at paintings as well as sculptures, studied everything in his house as if he had never seen such beauty before.

Therefore, it took him a long time to get to his bedroom. By that time, the sun had risen and shone in through the windows, shone in and lit everything in an absolutely gorgeous way. It was like another sun, another kind of light that brought him this warmth. And as the sun warmed him, caressed his face with its gentle and hot rays, he found the coat unnecessary, as well as the blanket.

So on the way, he took off the coat and he took off the blanket, folding it neatly and when inside his bedroom he put it on his desk, not bothering to fold it over the chair. His next move was moving to his bed, eyelids suddenly so heavy, feet the same. It was almost hard to cross the room, to make his feet obey the rest of his body, command them to move up, forward and down again.

But he finally got over to his bed, finally laid down. He didn't even get to breathe once before his eyes closed and he was already fast asleep. It was a sleep without dreams and without nightmares. Nothing disturbed him through the day, the night and half the next day.

When he woke, he felt surprisingly fresh and clear-headed. It was a rather long time since he had felt like that and it was a nice change from the panic and fear he always felt. He sat up in the bed and found that his back didn't hurt anymore. This was a thing he had started to notice after having lived in the Russian's house for a while. The bed there did nothing good for his back.

But now his back felt good again and he had almost forgotten his damages until he got out of the bed and instantly fell over because one of his knees was so stiff and wrapped in bandages.

He growled lightly and looked at the leg. _Verdammt_. That wasn't planned.

Roderich got up again, though, with the support of his bed and he slowly started dressing himself, finding a set of his own lovely clothes in the wardrobe. He put it on so slowly it could as well have taken half an hour. His eyes were closed in satisfaction when he pulled on the shirt and the coat, put the legs in his trousers - not without troubles - feet in the boots. And then the jabot around his neck, finishing it all off.

It was so, so nice to finally wear his own clothes again. His fine, elegant clothes. A smile spread on his face as he walked out of the room, one leg stiff and unbending, making it a bit hard to look carefree while strolling around.

There was complete silence. No other people walking around, no maniac woman chanting 'Marry me, marry me, marry me', no man fleeing from said woman, no crying sister or shivering Baltics. There was just... silence. It filled the Austrian's mind as he slowly, happily, walked around in his home.

This was nice. Once more experiencing the beautiful and wonderful place that was his home. His very own home. With a beautiful garden with flowers and bushes and-

He stopped for a moment, a frown on his face before it gave way for a wide smile.

He had a garden. A real garden. With real flowers and bushes and a small tree, even a small pond.

The violet eyes sought for the nearest door out and upon finding it, he quickly - as quickly as his knee allowed it - moved towards it and out.

The air was fresh. So very fresh. Oh, how it smelled wonderfully. All the flowers added their own gorgeous scent, every strand of green, soft grass made the most beautiful carpet he had ever set his eyes on. The trees and bushes, the butterflies flying around, every now and then sitting on a flower. The bees buzzing around lazily in the afternoon.

He followed some of them with his gaze, leading his attention to the small pond in the middle of the garden. He walked over to it with a small smile tugging at his lips. When he reached the bank of it he crouched down and let a couple of fingers run through the water, breaking the surface. It was cold but it was nothing compared to the cold he had endured in Ivan's house.

And thinking about that man again, the smile disappeared and turned into a more thoughtful expression. Ivan...

Roderich got up from his crouching position and straightened his clothes before walking back towards the door. Just inside the house he found yet another familiar person. He actually more heard than saw him.

"So you're back, I see?" Roderich jumped a good feet in sheer surprise as he hadn't expected anyone to be here right now. Especially not Gilbert.

He turned his head towards the albino and couldn't fight off a small smile. A maniac, but a maniac he could handle. More or less.

"Yes, I am. And hello to you, too, Gil." The other snorted and just moved closer. Roderich noted how his arm was put in a sling and that his white hair had a vague, very vague hint of pink.

"How the hell did you escape?"

"Believe it or not, but he actually let me go by his own will. He got me tickets to a plane and a taxi home from the airport." The Prussia lifted an eyebrow. He didn't look the least convinced.

"Is that really so..." he muttered and grabbed the aristocrat's arm, running his pale fingers along the clothes, apparently trying to feel any damages. His eyes had been lingering on the leg for a while, though. "But he couldn't let you go without a little souvenir."

Roderich flinched away, pulling his arm out of the other's grip. "That's... my leg isn't broken. It's a split kneecap." Because that was of course much better. "And may I remind you that if you had never gotten there it wouldn't have happened in the first place. I only got this damage because you were there."

"Oh, so now it's suddenly our fault?" Roderich took two fingers to his temple in his own usual way of saying 'Oh God, you're being so stupid. Again.'

"Technically, you could say that, yes. If you hadn't tried to escape me, Lizzy would never have been there and Ivan would never have hit her and also hit me. So I guess you could say that, although I of course appreciate your attempts of freeing me. But honestly, you should all know better than fighting with that man."

"Well, I'm fucking sorry we were trying to get you out of that psychopath's grip," Gilbert snarled and made ready to turn around but didn't get to as the brunette suddenly grabbed his arm, sighing deeply.

"Don't be stupid, even if it is one of the things you are best at," he said and forced the other around so they stood face-to-face. "Of course I wanted to get away but I don't want you to be damaged because of it! Look what happened to Lizzy!" And... speaking of her...

"How is she? Where is she, is she okay? How are you? Ludwig and Francis?"

"West is fine. He doesn't give a fuck about his damages. It's like he wasn't even harmed," the albino answered and shrugged like it didn't matter, managing to fight off a slight grimace of pain. "Lizzy is also better though we have been forced to get a doctor to check her." Roderich stiffened and looked at the Prussian with wide eyes. That couldn't be good. Normally the nations could take care of their own damages without having a doctor to check on it. Damn it, Toris had fixed his _knee_! "And Francis has been whining a lot about his head but he isn't dangerously injured."

"How bad are her damages?" Roderich asked and slowly let go of the other when he felt he wouldn't try and walk away again.

"She will be fine in no time as long as she doesn't do too much physical work. So don't be rough with her, Specs." It was impossible not to notice the innuendo in that sentence, even for Roderich.

"I can assure you I won't. I leave that to you and your brother. Although I hope Ludwig won't get to her like that. He's... a bit too rough, if you get my drift?" But how couldn't he? Gilbert was, like, one of the most perverted of them so how couldn't he understand what the brunette meant?

And the smirk on his face of course also told he had understood.

"Don't you worry. West has that little whiny Italian and though I don't see the benefits of such a partner, I'm glad he has him. Means I can get to Lizzy."

"Given she doesn't knock you out."

"She can't. I'm too awesome for that!"

Roderich raised an eyebrow.

"Is that so?" he said and crossed his arms over the chest, not able to fight off a small smile. "How about last January when you were celebrating that she won in-"

"That is unimportant!" the albino growled. "It was a stupid bet and nothing more than that!" Roderich couldn't help a smile cross his face as he looked at the albino harshly deny such a stupid thing had ever found place. Good for him he didn't know the amount of pictures Elizabeth had more or less forced Francis to take, whereupon she had sent Roderich home to deposit the pictures a safe place.

"You can say what you want, Gil, but you had a pretty bad headache afterwards."

"That was because of the beer," the albino instantly replied and sent him a scowling look before crossing his arms over the chest. "There was a shit-ton of beer in case you didn't notice."

"Oh but I did," the Austrian replied and started to move towards the kitchen. He had just noticed how hungry he was and he had decided to get something to eat. And as a kind favour he wouldn't mind if Gilbert joined him. "I was there and though I don't expect you to remember it, I had quite a few beers as well."

The albino looked very surprised by this as he followed the other. "You did?"

"Indeed. And for your information, I also woke up with quite a headache. Though that was from the beer rather than being beaten by a woman."

He ducked expertly and avoided Gilbert's arm when it was aimed at his head. "You know it's true."

"Shut the fuck up. You're annoying."

"Right back at you."

They got into the kitchen, slowly because of the brunette's bad leg, and Gilbert snaked past the other, going for the fridge before even being given permission. But to Roderich's surprise he didn't get food for himself. He had found a big plate of leftovers - when they had been fresh Roderich didn't know; he couldn't remember having made anything before going to the meeting - and put some of it on another plate before putting it in the micro wave and turned to watch the other. It took time as he could only use one hand but it was done nonetheless.

"It's for you," he said when Roderich also staggered over towards the fridge. He stopped and looked baffled for a second before managing a small smile. "_Danke_."

"Don't get used to it, though."

"Of course not. A kind you wold be like a Ludwig partying with glow sticks and women - quite an unimaginable thing." The smile was still in place when he sat down, whining lightly when the stress and pressure in the bad leg was released. His eyes closed and his head was leant back.

"Yeah. Would be quite a sight, though," the albino grinned and took the food out of the micro wave when it beeped insisting. He put it before the brunette and even found cutlery and a glass he filled with cold water.

"Definitely," Roderich said lowly and looked closer at the food. It didn't look like something he could recognize. What was it even? "Gil, what is this?"

The albino leaned over the table to look, sniffed at it before seeming to realize what he was looking at. "Ah. It's something I threw together a few days ago. West was angry because I arrived late to something work-related. Anyway, it's meat with... some other meat. That thing," he pointed at a particularly suspiciously looking piece of food Roderich had just stabbed with the fork, "is vegetable. I think."

Roderich used to the knife to push off the unidentified food. "Right. If you can't even tell me what it is then I won't eat it. Can you please tell me at least what you were trying to make?"

The albino looked highly offended. "_Trying_ to make? But that is definitely a well-known dish! It's called meat-a-lá-Prussia!" Roderich's smile widened as he took a bite. It didn't taste that bad. At least not like something that could poison him.

"Should I feel nervous about eating this?"

"No, of course not! Damn, man, I can cook just as well as you guys can! I'm not Arthur!"

"... True that." After that there was a long silence in which Roderich just ate and the Prussian strolled around in the kitchen. He hummed every once in a while and an odd expression of smugness slid over his face. Roderich didn't know why and frankly, he didn't really care. All he cared about was that he was home and Gilbert was here and he behaved like the normal dimwit he was. It was reassuring, in some way, even if he was also starting to be annoying. Just a tiny, tiny bit. But it was bearable. Actually, it felt normal and his behaviour had a strange calming effect.

There was no Ivan and there was no coldness. There were no harsh or taunting or mocking words and there was no madness, insanity or malice here. It was... This was familiar. Gilbert felt like a totally different person even if he hadn't changed one bit. It was very nice. Roderich liked it a lot.

Yet, a gnawing thought slowly started to drift around in his head. He wouldn't be calm before he saw the others and saw how well - or bad - they were. He really wanted to see them. Especially Lizzy. And... he also wanted to talk to her. He had something on his mind he believed she could maybe help with. She was a woman - although she didn't like it - and she was better at emotions and thoughts than most of the males. She would be the right one to help in this. If she would even want to...

Roderich bit his lips and he slowly stopped eating. Finally, he put down the fork and felt nearly ill. His heart was racing laps with itself and he felt slightly dizzy. Lizzy... speaking about Ivan and whatever that man could be feeling. It was just... that shouldn't happen. Why should anyone ever want to speak about emotions concerning Ivan?

"Specs?" Gilbert was by his side and had a small frown on his face. He actually looked worried about someone who wasn't himself. "You okay? Ate too fast or something?"

The brunette shook his head. No. That wasn't it. He reached for the glass of water, emptied it and filled it again, emptying it once more. But it suddenly felt as if his thirst could never be fully quenched. He could drink all the water in the tap and it still wouldn't be enough. What the hell was wrong with him? He hadn't even started talking yet and he was already feeling like a nervous teenager! It was ridiculous!

As if his thoughts had been read, he heard the door open and close before any of them was quick enough to get up and see who it was. But they didn't need to.

"Roddy?" a loud and female voice exclaimed before a woman staggered past the door, turning her head to the side, finding them and stopped. "Roddy!" Then she moved towards them, looking very happy and eager. She reached the brunette and grabbed his shoulders. She didn't get a reaction. Roderich was paralyzed. Not as much by seeing her safe and sound as by seeing her just after having thought about her.

His eyes widened when she pulled him in for a hug and yet it was only a second later than usual that he put his arms around her as well, though only weakly hugging her back. How did his mind jam like this? It wasn't her he had to talk about... She was but a mere link in the chain of getting to understand Ivan...

With shock he realized what he had just thought. More or less that Ivan was more important than her. And... how had that happened?

He was happy he sat down. Had he been standing his legs would have given in. He felt them shake and tremble like never before. He was scared, he suddenly realized. He was actually scared of the conversation he knew he would have to have with her. What would he find out about the Russian? Would she even agree on the topic?

"Roddy!" She gently punched his shoulder, not so much that it hurt but enough to haul him out of his thoughts and realize that his entire body was shaking and that his face had gotten pale. He looked up at her, finding her taller than him as she had pulled away to stare into his eyes. "Roddy, what's the matter?"

He shook his head slowly, as if he tried to get something out of his ears. "No-nothing," he mumbled and looked away. His eyes found the Prussian and seeing how shocked he was Roderich knew he must look bad. "I just... Lizzy, I need to talk to you. As in, right now. Before I really collapse."

She instantly agreed and offered him help in the form of a hand. He declined, though, and instead supported himself against the table. "Gil, if you would please," he mumbled and nodded towards the door out. The albino accepted but not without showing his actual worry for the brunette. When passing Roderich, he pulled him in for a quick hug and looked him deep in the eyes before disappearing out of the house.

And still, Elizabeth just stood there. She looked at him like he was seriously ill. "Roddy, are you sure you're okay?" Her hand was lingering just over his shoulder, unsure if she should touch or not. If it would help or make things worse.

He didn't answer, just leant against the table. He could really feel himself tremble. He could see his hands shiver against the deep mahogany. The long and slender fingers were so pale against it. They looked alien to him. Why was he suddenly so pale? Why did he feel slightly dizzy? When he had last been like this...?

When Ivan had raped him... When that had happened, he was pretty sure he had been just the same. Nervous, but to a degree where it was pure fear and pale to a degree he had been transparent.

And why did he remember that now, of all time? This wasn't really the time to remember such things. But was it truly ever?

"The living room," he mumbled and took a step forward, finding that both of his legs worked and that he didn't need support from the Hungarian. But she still took his hand, walking with him as they moved into the living room.

It was quite a big and luxurious room, decorated with various paintings, potted plants and a big rug under the coffee table. Elizabeta moved for the bigger couch, more or less dragging Roderich with her.

"Come, sit down," she said gently and placed them both in the soft couch, her eyes nervously flickering over his face. And now, only now did he seek for her touches and the comfort he knew she could give. His hand fumbled for hers but not even when finding them did he stop shaking. His fingers quivered in her hands and he couldn't bring himself to look at her eyes. What was so wrong with that, why couldn't he? It would only take a simple movement of his head and he could see into the beautiful green orbs he knew so well...

But he didn't.

They sat in silence for a while. Elizabeta just waited for him to finally break and pour out his thoughts and heart so she could get to know what was wrong. It had to be something very bad if it could bend and break him. He might not seem like the strongest of them but he didn't whine even when things were hard. And now he was so obviously close to do just so. It had to be something bad. She just had to figure out what. Or figure out a way to make him say it if he wouldn't do it willingly.

It hurt her to see him like this. They didn't have anything together anymore, they were 'only' friends, great friends, on top of that, but she cared as much for him as she had ever done. That hadn't changed. Not in the slightest.

This was also the reason she was the one to break the silence.

"Roddy, what is it that bothers you?"

And he looked up. He finally lifted his gaze and let his flickering eyes find hers. His fingers tightened and his heart skipped a beat. This was the point of no return. He felt as if he was about to confess his love for her. But he of course wouldn't. HFirst of all because he didn't hold those feelings. Not anymore. He didn't know what had happened. It had been... what, a few months ago he had been kissing her so fiercely? And now... now he felt nothing for her. Nothing else but warmth and friendship, that wonderful friendship he hoped would last for at least an eternity. He would need her in his life. For the sake of his own sanity.

"Lizzy, you're a woman," he started, only vaguely noting how stupid it sounded, and not at all able to remember that Elizabeta wasn't too happy about the fact she was a woman.

"Well, you sure haven't been living your life under a rock," she said, managing to flash a small smile to him before going back in the serious state again. "Joke aside... why are you mentioning that now? What does my gender have to do with anything?"

He just said it. He couldn't keep it in, couldn't keep the words away. They were transformed into a wild river of words and sentences he doubted the quality of. He even doubted she would understand just half of what he blabbered about. It was so very rare he spoke of these things so it was always very troublesome the few times it had happened.

"Lizzy, I just don't know what to do! I'm so confused and I don't know him that much and he has just been so weird for the last month! He… He is usually evil and unfair, right? Yes, exactly, and he likes to hurt people for fun, right? Exactly, and he hasn't been doing any of that for the last month! He cared for me and showed interest in me and my health, for my knee, he even suggested I took some days off to rest it! He even bought me tickets so I could go home!"

He took a deep breath before continuing, not for a second considering Elizabeta's clearly confused expression.

"I mean... you're a woman-"

"You're very perspicacious today."

"- so you're good with feelings, right? Because... I really need to talk with someone who knows about emotions! You're the only one I know who can do so without twisting yourself into a knot! Please, Lizzy, I need to talk! I don't think I will be able to handle this if I don't know what it is all about!"

Before he could open his mouth again and continue, the Hungarian had put a finger on his lips, stopping him from speaking further. She had a somewhat thoughtful and serious expression of her face and she was frowning.

"First of all; thank you for considering me good about emotions and stuff. Second of all; who are you talking about? You have been with that Russian for almost half a year but you can't seriously say it is him...?"

But the look she received from Roderich said it all. His eyes were filled with doubt and insecurity about this all but it couldn't be doubted that Ivan was the man in question. When she had mentioned him Roderich had nodded nearly unnoticeable but Elizabeta had seen it. And she was suddenly angry, angry as well as she was absolutely baffled. _Ivan_, of all people...?

"Okay, okay..." She sighed deeply and leant back in the couch, looking at him with the frown still in place. "Describe for me in details what exactly Ivan has been like towards you."

This sent the Austrian's heart into another race, though not as fast and fierce as before. She didn't turn him down. She was willing to talk about it. Even if she didn't look happy about it.

So Roderich did as told. He told everything that had happened in the Russian's cold home. He told about everything Ivan had done and said to him. He explained how he had slowly changed attitude and behaviour towards him. He even told about the rape in more details than he was comfortable with but when he had now started he just couldn't seem to stop. He had to tell everything when he had the opportunity.

When he finally stopped he found himself incredibly exhausted and his body still shivering but now more from exhaustion than fear and anxiety. Now it was time to hear what his former wife thought of this...

She was indeed the only one he believed to have enough knowledge of emotions to know what the hell was going on with Ivan. And even though even his younger sister had seemed to know what was going on he dared not believe this was true. That woman was insane as well, she couldn't be trusted.

Roderich suddenly found that he was standing and had actually been walking around as he had spoken. Now he sat again, feeling his cheeks glow in the darkness that was slowly starting to force its way forth.

A new silence reigned between them and she mostly just looked at him, as if he was some kind of interesting creature she had never seen before. But in her eyes there was discomfort, resentment and there was doubt.

When she opened her mouth to speak, Roderich felt as if his heart skipped a beat once more and ended in his throat. Damn it, why was he suddenly so nervous?! It was unbearable!

"Roddy," she started, slowly and hesitantly, as she observed him, "are you _absolutely_ sure that is what has happened? He hasn't drugged you and forced you to join his insane drinking-parties? He hasn't slipped something in your food or your water or something?"

It was now his turn to frown lightly. Drug him? No, Ivan had never done that... Not that he knew of, at least. He had forced him to drink some Vodka once but that was a long time ago. That had been... before the rape.

"No... that is not it, Lizzy." That was far from it... Roderich wasn't drugged and he hadn't been eating bad food - if we should risk trusting Gilbert's words - that could have caused his mind to go into a knot.

"Ivan... he wouldn't do that. Not to me." But was he really sure of this? Like hell he wasn't. He just had this feeling that Ivan would never do that to him. It might be an insane thought and idea but then it at least fitted Ivan... right?

Because yes, Ivan was insane. He was mad, a madman, a lunatic, a freak, a monster, all of those he indeed was. But there was a reason. It wasn't Ivan's fault. Not entirely.

Ivan had had about the worst childhood anyone could ever have, filled with torture in every way possible. He had been telling Roderich about his childhood and it hadn't been nice. Roderich had been close to tears, he was actually pretty sure he had cried...

"But, Roddy, you also know he is completely deranged. He could easily do those things just to make you fucked up and make you feel bad for him so you wouldn't leave!"

"But why would he want _me_ with him? Haven't you all agreed on that I'm useless and good for nothing except for playing the piano?" A picture of himself being pressed against a piano, Ivan standing in front of him, his violet orbs glistening with lust.

He shook his head, just as Elizabeta opened her mouth.

"That's nonsense, Roddy!" she exclaimed. "Of course you can do things other than playing the piano!"

"But what could _he_ want from _me_? I have no business with him, I'm not the best choice to a possible upcoming war and I'm generally not someone I had ever thought he would notice! Don't we all agree that he should be all over Yao? Isn't that the guy he freaking loves?!"

The Hungarian sat in silence, staring up at the other brunette. The man was obviously very confused and needed to let out some steam.

"He started to act like he wanted to befriend me, as if he hoped I could ever end up liking him after what he did to me!"

"Maybe he did-"

"But how the bloody hell-"

"Roddy, be quiet," the Hungarian said, her voice low but suddenly audible. It had an... odd tone to it. He did so, standing silent but quivering lightly, nails digging into the palms of his hands.

"You said he kissed you. Did you... was there any... _feeling_ to it?"

At first, Roderich frowned. Then, when he thought back, thinking about the kiss, it slowly disappeared.

It... hadn't held anything at first, it had just been a kiss. But then something had changed. Ivan had moved his head and the kiss had started feeling actually kind... something like... actually passionate.

He shook his head, trying to get both feeling and picture out of his mind. A picture of Ivan above him, strong hands holding him in place, forcing their lips together until a tongue had started playing with his own lips, begging for entrance.

"It was nothing at first. But then... it got... something like passionate." The picture was still there. Violet orbs glistening above him, shining with amusement and joy, partly lust. "He... He made it loving, somehow. I... I..."

And then, another picture. In the airport. Ivan had dragged him in for another kiss. That had been soft and sweet and kind. Everything he hadn't imagined that man to be able to be.

He didn't know how to continue. His mind was stuck on the pictures and slowly, very slowly, he found the horrifying fact that he didn't mind it and that he now didn't feel disgusted by the thing Ivan had done. As he realized this, he felt blood flow from his face and his knees buckled even more.

What... what the ever-burning hell? Why didn't he feel disgust, why didn't he think that action gross and wrong?

And then. As lighting from a clear sky he realized what Ivan had been doing, what had been going on in the last few months.

This thought nearly knocked him out and he had to sit down again, eyes wide open but unseeing. Elizabeta was by him in an instant, wondering what had suddenly happened.

"L-Lizzy," he whispered, taking her hand tightly before dragging his attention back and looking into her scared but beautiful green eyes, "does he... is it love?" His fingers were shaking greatly as they lay around her wrists, grip tightening when he finally said the words. "Does he love me? Is he so kind to me because he... because he has found that kind of interest in me?"

The woman's first reaction was one of pure shock, disgust and horror - all combined in one grimace that caused her face to be contorted in a not-too-pretty way. A gasp escaped her lips and where she before had been sitting in front of him, on her knee and clenching his hands, she fell back, sitting on her bum, being pulled awkwardly forward by the Austrian's grip.

But then, when having processed his words and deciphered the meaning of them, her face - for some reason - took an expression of sheer anger and her eyes became hard. Love?

_Ivan? Love? _

That was just two words that didn't belong in the same sentence. It was wrong. Could Ivan even love? Was he capable of feeling the emotion 'love'? Or, she didn't really doubt that his insane mind was more than capable of knowing and feeling the emotion. Just... not the way it was supposed to.

But she had to admit that what Roderich was explaining sounded painfully much like love. Or at least something similar to it. And she did _not_ like it. Like hell she would ever even allow that. Not that she should decide his life or anything but if he should have another partner, it shouldn't be Ivan.

"Lizzy?"

It was first when she heard her name mentioned she realized she had been tensing her jaws and her hands had clenched into fists in the other's grip. Realizing this, she tried to relax and gently but firmly pulled herself out of the brunette's grasp.

"Lizzy, have I...? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she growled and rose from the floor, only to sit by his side the next second, looking at him with still tense jaws. To his words... what should she say? She couldn't confirm him in his thoughts. That would just... be wrong, wouldn't it?

But at the same time... It wouldn't be fair. He trusted her and he had treated her with enormous amounts of love and passion, not to mention his natural kindness and gentleness.

It was only fair to be fair...

And so, she opened her mouth to speak, feeling how the tension in her jaws made it hurt slightly.

"I... It _sounds_ like love but coming from Ivan... I wouldn't trust him. I mean, he's loco, right?"

As if having thought of a counterattack to those exact words while she had been out of it, Roderich talked.

"But what if his insanity has still allowed him to feel one thing - love?"

"Why should it let him feel just that but not emotions such as kindness and gentleness? It just doesn't make any sense!"

Roderich bit his lower lip. He knew it didn't.

"Kindness and gentleness is essential in a relationship and love is, like... it's kind of the evolution of gentleness!"

But Roderich was now lost in thoughts. Ivan had been kind to him. He knew that emotion as well. Or pretended to. Either way, he had done a good job in that. He had changed behaviour to treat him nicely, so he would feel better. Why would he do that if it wasn't to make him fall in love with him?

And... frankly spoken... wasn't Ivan the one of them that deserved love the most? After what he had been through... The Golden Horde, slaughtering his own people because of his insanity, not knowing how to interact with people because everyone feared him so he never had gotten the opportunity to talk with them.

He had been tortured in his childhood. Having his mother killed and being apart from his sisters by a man so much stronger than him, beating him down whenever he did something wrong, whenever he dared to defy the man.

He hadn't had a childhood. Unlike many of the others, he had been forced to fight for survival and didn't have anyone to follow after, look up to when growing up. He had had himself and two sisters where one of them was insane as himself, already at that time, and the other had been easy to scare and it had been - still was - easy to make her cry. She would be seen as weak.

People had always avoided him. They had been avoiding him because of his insanity - and really; who could blame them? - and they had talked badly about him behind his back. But he always knew. Ivan knew about everything that went on around him.

He deserved love. He indeed did. It may be true when people said that he loved Yao or that he loved Toris but was that really true? If the rumours were true or not wasn't really important. But did he love them? Did he feel that passionate burn in his heart for those two men?

Roderich had no answer for his own questions but he suddenly realized that if any of them deserved love, it was Ivan. He had been through so much and he had always only been trying to make friends.

His favourite phrase - Become one with me, da! - could suddenly be understood in two ways:

The first way; that he wanted everyone on their knees for him, admit him the strongest and that they would follow him wherever he went.

The second way: that he wanted to be friends with everyone in the world, without the use of force, violence and wars.

Roderich swallowed heavily, feeling his heart pound against his ribs, threatening with breaking them. He was panting as if he had been running a marathon and he felt shaky, his fingers gripping his coat as Elizabeta's hands weren't any longer in his.

"Roderich, look at me," she demanded and he obeyed, though being shocked at this new 'discovery'.

"But Lizzy," he said, interrupting her as she was just about to say something more, "can't you understand it? He deserves love. He is the person in this world who deserves love the most! He deserves to know the feeling of loving touches and gentle fingers!"

"Roddy, stop saying that, right now! You are confused, you don't know what you are saying!" She almost sounded panicking, like she was afraid of what he had realized and what he was now saying.

"Confused or not, you can't deny it! If anyone deserves love and kindness, it is him!"

"What are you even saying! Think of all the things he has done! He has tortured people and other nations; he has slaughtered so many of his own! No one should be able to do that, insanity or not!"

"It's only because he has been so confused! He has been living behind a mask!"

Elizabeta was practically fuming. Her eyes glistened and her hair nearly crackled with fury. She wouldn't believe that! She couldn't accept the fact that such a maniac may happen to love her ex-husband!

"Confused or not, mask or not, it is simply not okay to have done the things he has! Slaughtering your own people, torturing others, humans and nations alike, forcing them into various things - it is simply not okay, Roderich! You can say whatever the hell you want but don't expect me to go with you on this one!"

She didn't believe it. She couldn't and she wouldn't.

The Austrian seemed hurt and disappointed but he nonetheless kept his head high and cold. As much as that was possible in the given situation, of course.

But he had made a choice. If she couldn't accept the fact that Ivan loved him - which it seemed she couldn't - then she wouldn't have to get any more involved in it.

He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself, but to no avail.

"If that is how it is, then I am sorry I have taken so much of your time, Lizzy, though I appreciate you even wanted to talk about him in the first place."

Besides fury and disbelief, she now also looked hurt.

"Are you sending me out of here?"

"No. You are welcome to stay if you'd like but I'd just assume you didn't want to see me in a while after this talk."

"... Roddy, what do _you_ feel for Ivan?"

That was a question that surprised the Austrian quite a bit. What he felt for the man...?

He frowned and got a thoughtful expression on his face, eyes becoming slightly distant.

"I... I feel... I mean, I feel very sorry for him and such but I don't... feel anything like that." At least I don't think so.

The woman nodded and slowly rose from the couch. She looked doubtful about what to do about herself and she sent a quick look outside. It was almost pitch black. Maybe she should go back...

"I'm... I'm going home, Roddy. I'll call you in a few days and maybe pay you another visit."

He also stood and pulled her into a tight hug, closing his eyes tightly, breathing in her scent. Lovely as ever.

"Thank you, Lizzy," he mumbled into the soft, brown hair, "thank you for talking with me. I apologize if I made you uncomfortable of any sort at any time." She just shook her head when they parted, tried to smile but failed whereupon she quickly left the living room and went out the front door.

Roderich looked after her, his heart slowly settling down but his mind accelerating.

The next many days passed by. The calendar on Roderich's wall announced it was exactly a week ago since Elizabeta had left when she called him.

It was a nice and quiet conversation and they both managed to keep their cool without raising their voices. They talked about various things and though they strained themselves slightly not to feel awkward, it was a good conversation.

After that, Gilbert also came over for another visit and this was, somehow, much more manageable for the Austrian. Gilbert was naturally a burden to have around but now his company was somehow more than welcome. It felt awfully nice to have someone to blame for everything that went wrong on that particular day and the albino didn't seem to mind it. He just grinned and shrugged whereupon he would ruffle the Austrian's hair and run away, knowing the man would never catch him with his knee in its current condition.

Speaking of which. His knee was healing perfectly fine, Ludwig announced, when he also paid a visit to his cousin when having heard he was back. He had examined the knee and found it to be healing well. He guessed it should be fine in a few months' time.

But even if Roderich smiled to all of them and never said a thing about Ivan, the thoughts were always in his head. He always thought about the man and what was possibly going on with him and his mind.

He wanted to know how Ivan was. He... a tear had been on his face when they had departed in the airport. Ivan had shown weakness during the whole trip to the airport, but the ultimate sign of weakness had been that small droplet of water rolling over his cheek when looking after Roderich.

That picture haunted him nearly every night but only once did he wake by it. That had been caused by an especially bad nightmare where Ivan had broken when he had been left in the airport after the plane had taken off. That nightmare had caused him to wake in the middle of the night and he remembered having screamed the Russian's name loudly, only to find that he was home, in his warm bed with his warm duvet, in his warm pyjamas.

It was now nearly a month since he had left the Russian.

That morning, he had made a call to the Baltics. Much to his relief, it was Toris who picked up. He sounded drowsy and couldn't suppress a small yawn though he tried to muffle it with a hand.

He began talking in his native language but Roderich cut him off before he even managed to say his own name.

"Toris, how is Ivan?"

Silence reigned between them for about ten seconds before the Lithuanian answered. His voice was shaky and uncertain and just as he began speaking a loud roar could be heard in the background. Then something that was shattered.

"W-Who is this?"

"It's Roderich!"

"Ah, I-I see. Mr. Ivan is..." The man hesitated, as if he didn't know if he had permission to talk about it. He probably hadn't. "H-He is bad, Mr. Roderich. He's been drunk, a-actually _drunk_ and he is wo-worse than normal. He is roaring and cu-cursing and destroys things."

Roderich's throat constricted painfully. Yes. He had foreseen that. He didn't know much about the Russian's mood or behaviour but it somehow didn't surprise him. Ivan was violent, yes, but this...

"Do you know the reason?" the Austrian asked, leaning against the wall and closing his eyes.

"No, Mr. Roderich. He doesn't want to talk. He doesn't talk to us and he is in his study far more than usually. Do you...?"

Few thoughts ran through Roderich's head and even fewer seconds passed before he interrupted the other.

"I'll be there in the evening."

"Mr. Roderich, what are you-"

Click.

The Austrian had hung up. He had made his choice. Ivan was bad, obviously very bad. And though they had no relations, Roderich felt something for the man. He didn't want to put words on it, afraid what whose words would be.

He sat by his computer and browsed the internet, looking for the fastest and cheapest way to Moscow. He had to compromise with himself, because the fastest flight was very expensive and his stinginess kicked in, telling him it was stupid to use so much money on something that wasn't exactly a question about life and death.

But on the other hand, he didn't want it to take 10 hours, like one of the longest flights took. So he ended up with a flight that took about 5 hours. It was long but not too long. He bought it and waited for the confirmation e-mail, printed it out and left a note to possible guests. If he knew Gilbert right - which he believed he did - the man wouldn't hold back down from kicking in the door when he found the Austrian didn't open.

The Austrian just begged they wouldn't visit him now. He ran for his room, as quickly as he could, and got the coat and blanket, folded them over his arm and went to the kitchen, grabbed a piece of bread he had baked the day before and started to scribble down a note while he – quite unlike his normal self – nearly swallowed the bread whole.

_Dear Elizabeta (and Gilbert and Ludwig, and everyone else who should happen to stumble upon this note),_

_I will be gone for a while. I don't know yet for how long. Please take care of my house and my garden in my absence. _

_Gilbert, you may eat the cake in the fridge. But don't make a mess out of my kitchen._

_Best regards,  
>Roderich Edelstein<em>

He left the note on the counter and grabbed his wallet and his cell phone, putting the things in pockets in his coat before heading out of the house, locking the door behind him. His heart was beating rapidly as he moved towards his car and fumbled with the keys before managing to unlock the vehicle and put himself in the driver seat.

He sat there for a long minute, looking at the steering wheel as if that held the answer for what he should do. How long did he have before the plane departed...? A glance at his wristwatch. A few hours.

The car was put in gear and he drove off, heading towards the city. For what felt like a long time, he just walked around after having parked his car. He passed several shops, theatres, cafés and other places where he could kill the time. Instead, he walked from the parking lot to the airport, deciding to wait there.

Half an hour before the plane departed, his cell phone went off, causing him to flinch a bit in his seat. He had been dozing off but the unmistakable of notes from a grand piano woke him. He took it after having looked at the display. A number he didn't quite recognize. Therefore, it was with wariness he took it to his ear.

"Hallo?"

"Roddy, where the fucking hell are you?" Elizabeta. He closed his eyes and leant forward a bit, putting a hand to his forehead. She had found the note, apparently.

"Nothing you should worry about," he mumbled. She really shouldn't get into this...

"I saw your note and-" There was noise in the other end and it sounded like she argued with someone. It lasted for half a minute but when the phone was taken to a mouth it wasn't Elizabeta who spoke.

"Specs, get your prissy ass back to your prissy piano where you belong!" Gilbert. Who else?

A small smile spread over the aristocrat's face. He looked around at the humans. They were slowly starting to gather their things and looked up at the screen. They would be boarding soon.

"That is not possible."

"Then at least tell us where we can find you! What the fuck do you think you're doing?!"

'Going back to Ivan,' he thought to himself. The thought seemed utterly ridiculous to him but he had made a decision and he would not back down now.

"It's nothing you should worry about." I will probably be back soon. But I don't know...

A voice announced the boarding had started and the Austrian quickly stood and got in line. But they had also heard it in the other end.

"... Purely theoretical, where would you be going if you were at an airport?" Dang. First clue given away.

Roderich bit his lip and got out his boarding pass and his passport as the line slowly moved.

"I could go a lot of places."

"But _of course_ you wouldn't be going to Russia, would you?" ... Double dang. As good as busted.

"Why would I want to do that?"

"Specs! I demand your ass back in your fucking house or I will... I will... I will burn it!"

Roderich knew he wouldn't hesitate to do such a thing. That was just Gilbert.

"My ass or my house? I dare you," he just mumbled before hanging up. He showed boarding pass and passport and moved on, soon sitting in the airplane that would take him to Moscow, Russia. What he did from there... he had no idea. Take a taxi or something. But he didn't even know exactly where Ivan lived.

He turned off the cell phone just as a message rolled in.

**I once more apologize for how late this is. Please be patient with me and don't kill me, neh?**


	11. As they make it up

**Alright, you guys! I present to you – the last chapter of my first fanfiction ever in history. Not to mention this is the longest thing I have ever written with a serious mind. I'm truly sorry if it hasn't lived up to your expectations! **

Once more, Roderich was too nervous to sleep on the plane. He sat in his seat, eyes fastened on the window just beside him, looking at the ground quickly getting further and further away until there was only clouds. Soon... 5 hours and he would be in Russia, in Moscow, and he would have to find a way to get to Ivan's house.

He didn't know where it was and he didn't know how to get there. That was a problem he fought with for a while before a thought hit him. And when it did, he felt like the biggest idiot in the world.

He would just have to call the Baltics. Hopefully, Toris would be the one to pick up again. He didn't know Eduard or Raivis well enough to feel comfortable with talking with them. Why hadn't he thought of that before? It was so obvious!

It was therefore with a very small, very vague smile on his face that he got out of the plane when it stood still and got through the airport without being stopped by anyone. In front of the building, there were a lot of taxis. He got one while calling the Baltics. Much to his relief it was Toris who picked up once more.

As if he knew who would be calling, he said:

"Roderich, where are you?"

"I'm in Moscow, at the airport. How do I get to his house?"

A driver stood in front of him. He was a tall man with a big, red moustache, red hair and blue eyes. The Lithuanian started giving directions but Roderich interrupted him and gave the phone to the driver instead so the two could plan out a route to Ivan's house. Roderich was horrible with directions and he would without doubt manage to get lost, even if he wasn't the one driving.

So, he got inside the car, wrapped in the Russian's coat and the blanket, yet still freezing, and they drove out of the parking lot, the driver having written down the directions.

He didn't know how long the ride took and he didn't really care much about it. He looked out the window the whole ride, though not really seeing any of the things or surroundings passing by. Coldness and fear for the meeting with Ivan paralyzed him and his eyes were unmoving and empty.

But then the car stopped and the driver announced that they had arrived. Roderich looked at him with a slow and slightly confused eyes, as if not knowing where he was though he had done nothing but stare at trees and snow and signs that could as well have been in Russi- oh wait.

He got out and managed to pay the driver, his fingers trembling in the cold. The human drove away again, sending him a last worried look.

Nothing or no one greeted him. Not that he had expected it but it would have been a bit nice to meet Toris instead of Ivan as the first. His steps were slow and staggering as he moved forward and up to the door. But he didn't even need to knock on the door before it was opened. There Toris stood and shook with anxiety.

"M-Mr. Roderich," he mumbled and opened the door enough to let the aristocrat inside. He did so and they stood in the entrance hall for a few seconds, looking at each other. Roderich felt his leg throb and hurt a bit before stepping forward, looking around.

It was all so familiar. He could remember the things in here, scary paintings and sculptures in the hallway. The coldness was so well-known and he remembered having stood here, by the door, and it had been locked. And then...

Then _that_ had happened.

He moved forward, through the hallway with Toris by his side, begging him not to go any further, even tried to push him back and away from the corridor they both knew would lead to the study.

"Mr. Roderich, please, no," the Lithuanian whispered and gestured wildly for the other Baltics when they emerged from another room, shaking as always. They looked shocked to find Roderich back and went to help Toris in convincing the Austrian to go back.

But they didn't succeed. No matter what they did or said, Roderich was determined not to leave just yet. He had come here for a reason and as long as he hadn't done that, he wouldn't go back.

It was first when the door to the study was slammed open all talk silenced. They all looked at the door, Baltics shaking so much they nearly vibrated over the floor, while the Austrian just stood completely still, staring at the Russian slowly getting out of the room.

He walked slowly and started with having his back to them.

"Why the hell are you shouting and-" Then he turned around and faced the persons in the hallway. His eyes went over the Baltics without anything but anger and annoyance but when finding the Austrian's face, his eyes widened before narrowing and he snarled. A reek of strong alcohol was around him.

"What are you doing here?" he then growled and shut the door closed, staring at the aristocrat as the Baltics slowly stepped away from them. Ivan didn't seem to notice this so they quickly disappeared, leaving the Russian and Austrian alone.

"I have to talk with you," Roderich said and tried to look casual as he stood in the cold and the middle of the hallway, suddenly alone and with a leg still throbbing and hurting slightly.

"What could you possibly want to talk with me about?" But the door was aggressively opened again and Ivan made an angry gesture.

Inside.

Once inside the study, Roderich took a quick look around. Nothing had changed. The cabinet for his precious possessions was still empty and the bookcase was still full of thick books with probably complicated contents that only Ivan would understand.

The Russian walked behind his desk, kicking away broken bottles on his way. The floor was covered with them. Some bottles were half-filled, some were as empty as if they had never held anything and some were just a place in between. A sicking amount of full and whole bottles stood on the window sill and it was obvious Ivan had plans to drink them all.

"You wanted to talk?" His voice was thick and uncharacteristically hoarse but at the same time dripping with annoyance and... was that fear? It sounded like it.

"Yes," Roderich said and turned his attention to the bigger man by the desk. "You have treated me very differently the last month I stayed here. I demand an explanation". He had figured it out. Partly. At least he believed he was right and honestly, he felt stupid for not having figured it out sooner and that he had had to drag Elizabeta into it.

Apparently Ivan was of the same opinion because he just snorted before taking a big - too big - swig of a full bottle of Vodka.

"Haven't you figured it out yet?" he asked after having taken the bottle from his lips.

"I have a theory, but I want your words before I dare believe it is correct." The Austrian's face was uncharacteristic plain and cold as he looked over at the Russian.

"_Nyet._ I want to hear my little musician's theory, as you call it. Why do you think I changed?" A grim but somewhat sad smile appeared on the other's face. A jab in his heart. "Because I'm _such_ a _kind_ man? Because I'm a maniac that likes to fuck with people's mind?"

"Because you love me." It was said as simple as that. There was no hesitation and he didn't waver a moment when saying it. He knew he was right. There could be no other explanation.

And when seeing Ivan freeze in his seat, stiff and with a slightly surprised expression on his face, Roderich knew even more that he had hit the right spot. "You love me but you couldn't bring yourself to say it. Why?"

For once, he actually felt confident. Maybe it was because he had the Russian paralyzed by such relatively simple words. Maybe it was because he finally had achieved something on his own. He didn't know for sure, he just knew that he wouldn't stop now. He wanted every bit and piece of information about the Russian's love for him.

The man slowly took the Vodka to his lips again, never taking his eyes off the brunette, and he swallowed half of the content like it was nothing.

"Why I didn't say anything?" Roderich nodded, Ivan sighed. "That should also be rather obvious. But fine, if you're dumb enough to not-"

Before he had finished his sentence, Roderich had crossed the room and slammed a fist down onto the desk with an actual expression on his face. An expression of anger and annoyance.

"Stop treating me like I'm a child that knows nothing!" he hissed and locked eyes with the Russian. "You're a damn insane maniac and you suddenly start loving me but don't tell me. How the fuck am I supposed to know when you fuck with people's mind all the time? This could have been as well!"

"Why would I fuck with your beautiful and creative mind?" Ivan said coldly, not looking away for a second.

"Because you wanted me to stay here forever, wanted me by your side!"

"I do want that."

A moment of shocked silence where Roderich's eyes widened and Ivan's got a hint of melancholy.

"I want you by my side. I want you to love me, I want you to never leave again, I want you to be mine. I desire you." He looked deadly serious and his voice got a tad lower, falling into an equally serious tone.

The Austrian looked completely baffled and his jaws dropped slightly. Ivan slowly rose from his chair, standing tall as he was in front of the other.

"You asked why I didn't say anything." He held up a hand to stop the aristocrat from talking. "I was... afraid... to scare you. I was afraid you would never want to see me again."

"Do you seriously think I would feel like that from some words after you _raped_ me? You practically chained me to this place so I couldn't run! Did you ever have plans on releasing me?"

"_Nyet_. I didn't."

"Then why did you?"

"Your ex-wife. We made a bet." It was now or never. Ivan knew he wouldn't get to talk to the aristocrat ever again so it was now everything should be told. Even if it hurt.

"I'd keep you for half a year. After that you should choose who you wanted to stay with the most. Me or your Europeans friends." It was no act when his voice was hollow but still sad. Why would Roderich ever choose him now? He knew what he had done, what pain he had caused the other, of course he would choose the Europeans.

But Roderich didn't say anything. He just stood there, baffled and lower jaw hanging somewhere around his chest. Ivan didn't look at him. He snaked past the man, making sure not even their clothes would brush together, and walked to the window, looking out in the snow. Beautiful. White and silent. Innocent. Like he had never been, would never be.

It was so chaste, so pure. Not an animal had stepped on nature's soft duvet made of frozen flakes. Nothing disturbed it, it was just whole and pure and white.

Like Roderich had been. Roderich had been innocent and chaste, so beautiful. He still was, oh, no doubt about that, but Ivan had ruined it. He had ruined the man he loved the most in this world. Loved him to a degree where he had been unable to control himself and he had taken the man with force.

Roderich was harmless. He would never hurt anyone, except for Gilbert - and honestly, that man deserved it - and Ivan had hurt him in the most gruesome way. Raped him, made him unclean, unholy. He had forced the man into submission, not only to his lust but also to his commands. He had broken the man's own free will.

Or, so he had thought. But Roderich had returned. Roderich was there, now, behind him. He could feel the other pair of violet orbs rest on the back of his head as he slowly raised a hand and put it on the glass in front of him. Nearly warm compared to normal. Even if there was no sun.

Was he just becoming even colder?

"You want to know for how long I loved you."

Roderich hadn't said anything but Ivan had felt the question press on inside the brunette's mind and the mouth had just opened to let go of that exact question.

What was his answer? He thought long and he thought deeply though the answer in truth was too easy to find, yet so hard to tell.

"For too long. I have always loved you. You are fine, delicate, you are creative, you are beautiful and you aren't a beast that slaughters everything that comes near. You want power, of course you do, we all wish for that. But you aren't willing to kill to make that happen. You are human." Human to a point I can never hope to reach.

Roderich swallowed and looked down at the floor. "The... when you got Elizabeta over here and you made me kiss her... You were so angry because... because you loved me that much, right? You wished you were in her place, didn't you, and that's why you became so furious."

Ivan just nodded, not taking his eyes off the sight before him. Yes... that was exactly the reason. He had hated Roderich for being able to get so passionate with her in front of other people, in front of _him_ and he had wished himself in her place so he could be the one kissing his musician so fiercely.

There was a long silence after that. Roderich didn't dare speak, nor did he know what to say, and Ivan was just standing and looking out in the cold and the snow. He wanted to say something more, wanted to elaborate, but at the same time, that was just too painful.

He wanted to say how sorry he was. How much he regretted having done what he had done. Wanted to say it was the insanity that had made him do it, being helped by a fog of lust and sexual desire. He wanted to explain how it had haunted him in both night time and daytime. How he couldn't bear it. He wanted to say how much he had missed the man after he had gone home.

His heart had shed bloody tears for him when seeing him in the airport and one of those fiendish tears had sneaked into his eyes, only to fall over his cheeks and make him look weak. Since that day, Ivan had never had a calm or easy moment. He had yelled much more of the Baltics than before and he had actually showed this aggressiveness towards his sisters as well. The older had been confused and sad while the younger had just been angry and completely out of it.

He felt... he felt human. When thinking about this, he felt human, he felt like he had emotions and he had something to live for. By looking at the Austrian he would forever be reminded what horrible man he was and he would remember to never do such a thing again. But his love for the man could never die. That passionate burn in his heart no one could put out.

Not even the coldness of Russian snow.

"You should have told me," Roderich then whispered and turned his gaze to the floor. Ivan snorted.

"So you could feel even more disgust for me?" Loud and full of self-hatred, the voice nearly echoed in the room. "So you could have more reasons to hate me? You have enough already, you don't need anymore."

"But if you had told me," Roderich continued and now looked up, fixing his eyes on the back of Ivan's head, "it could have saved me many worries and it could have saved me many thoughts and bad dreams."

Now, Ivan turned around. Just the smallest bit, his head turning enough to catch the Austrian's gaze.

"It has been in your thoughts?"

"Of course. You're an insane lunatic who does nothing but harm other people and have fun with it and then you suddenly change behaviour. Tell me how I couldn't wonder about it."

The Russian turned around again, taking his eyes back to the snow. Easier to watch. Didn't hurt.

"You shouldn't. I'm not one you should worry about. I don't deserve it. I'm a monster, I should have been killed a long time ago." I wish the Golden Horde had finished me off. "I don't deserve to live, Roderich. I don't deserve anyone's pity or compassion. I don't want you to worry about me." But I do. I want you to. Think about me, only think about me.

"That's a lie, Ivan."

Roderich stepped forward, closer to the Russian while he spoke. "You are lying to yourself. You are the one who deserve kindness and pity the most. You have been through so much and you are still alive. You are insane but you are still here."

His hand softly landed on the man's shoulder, causing him to flinch away and shove the hand off.

"You may be nuts and all but you are equally strong and you have survived everything thrown at you. The Horde," Ivan flinched away even more before escaping to his desk and his Vodka, downing the rest of content in the bottle, "Bloody Sunday," the Russian suddenly growled in a low and warning tone, "all the wars, so many different bosses. Everything. People hate you and you don't care."

"Shut up. I know what has happened to me and my country."

"And yet you can't see how you also deserve kindness and gentleness and love?"

Ivan looked up, finding the Austrian's gaze and holding it there.

"What are you talking about?"

His heart accelerated a bit. Love. Had the man said that...?

Roderich walked closer, hands placed on the desk and looking into the Russian's eyes.

"Everybody hates you because you are cruel and evil. But they don't see the man behind it. They don't see who you are behind your insanity."

"And you think you have?" the Russian snorted, feeling... slightly uncomfortable but also... excited. Roderich was acting weird.

"You were kind to me. You treated me nicely and you gave me space. Almost. I think I have seen more of your sanity than you have planned on showing."

Ivan suddenly stood from his chair once more. "What makes you think you have the right to talk with me about my mind?"

Roderich didn't move back, neither did he change attitude from the calm and slightly cold.

"You love me and have raped me. I believe I have the right to talk with you," he replied and watched the Russian move from his seat and around the desk, standing just in front of the smaller man.

"I'm not scared of you, Ivan." What a lie. "You have broken me and you have forced me to my knee but I'm not afraid of you."

The Russian moved closer but Roderich didn't do anything. "Is that so? What made you reckless and believe I was not a monster?" he whispered.

This shut up the aristocrat. He stared up at the bigger man, feeling his heart accelerate as he for the first time really noticed how Ivan looked. The soft and slightly sticky ash-blonde hair falling into his eyes and sticking to his temples. Violet orbs filled with painfully many emotions. Sorrow and agony along with fear and desperation, hopelessness taking the space former emotions couldn't fill out. His brows were furrowed ever so lightly, giving his face both a sad and angry expression which completely stunned the musician. His pale skin was slightly glistening. The lips were contorted to a thin, thin line, as if forcing himself to remain quiet. The very prominent nose was wrinkled slightly, like a dog baring its teeth, being ready to attack.

He was actually beautiful. Truly beautiful, in a way Roderich had never believed he would think about the other. He held his breath as Ivan slowly, very slowly moved even closer and caught him against the desk. But Roderich still didn't move away.

His mind had jammed. Seriously jammed. He was unable to take his eyes away from Ivan's, showing so much misery and hatred, agony, fear. His heart beat rapidly in his chest and he was very sure the other could hear it. How could he not hear?

There was complete silence in the room as the two men stood in front of each other, the Russian finally having managed to cause the other to move, having bend slightly backwards over the desk, a hand placed on the surface, not caring about the glass splinters digging into the palms of his hands.

And suddenly, Ivan felt something he hadn't foreseen. Not even in his wildest imaginations or fantasies. A soft and careful hand was gently, very gently and slowly starting to stroke his face and neck. The very hand of Roderich Edelstein, the aristocrat and musician he had always secretly wanted, was now caressing his face with the utmost care that only he could.

Going against all instincts and common sense and other ethics and morals he could think of, Roderich sighed, a pain being lifted from his chest, as he moved his head upwards ever so slowly and, ignoring the shocked expression on Ivan's face, brought their lips together in a soft but oh, so burning kiss.

Ivan was shocked. He couldn't move, he couldn't take his eyes off the man blushing wildly before him, hell, he could barely breathe. He could only feel the aristocrat's soft, velvet-like lips against his own. They were so warm, anything his own were not. He could taste fresh bread and water, mixed with a touch of expensive wine, but more than anything, he could taste the man. Taste his lips that were so exquisite and so _him_. He tasted like everything he had believed.

Roderich was confident. His eyes had closed and he was very much aware of how red his face had to be. His other hand still lied in a pool of glass, causing his skin to puncture and blood to seep. The lips were cold, so very cold, and they were hard, not soft, as Roderich had somewhat imagined. He could taste Vodka, of course he could, he could taste things he didn't know the names of but he could also taste Ivan, a man he barely knew.

None of them knew for how long it lasted but it was Ivan who pulled away, putting a hand on Roderich's chest. He looked confused but also scared.

"What are you doing?" he whispered and stared at the aristocrat slowly opening his eyes.

"I'm showing you why I aren't scared of you," the brunette mumbled and looked up at the face over him with half-lidded eyes. "This is an act of... love right?"

It was hard for him to say. His heart was beating too fast and too loud, why hadn't Ivan commented on his fierce heartbeat? He had said it, said that he loved Ivan.

He loved Ivan.

He loved the most brutal and violent person he had ever met.

"You don't love me." The words were cold and hard but with a horrible twist of agony and Ivan turned away from him, eyes closed and breathing quickly.

"You can't love me. I would harm you. I already have done." His voice was suddenly hoarse. "Go home. You wouldn't be safe here, Roderich. And I only want for you to be safe." It was partly a lie. He desperately wanted Roderich to stay so they could be together all the time but he also wanted the man to be safe. And he couldn't be that here.

Roderich was confused at first. What...? Then he got back his confidence and he stood up normally again, eyes fastened on the Russian.

"But I do love you, Ivan. Otherwise I wouldn't have kissed you."

The Russian looked doubtful when he turned to watch the Austrian.

"You only plan on confusing me and hurting me. I'm used to that, though, it doesn't matter. Keep going."

The musician felt himself become slightly annoyed at the man's words and his face showed it, he could feel his eyes flashing.

"I don't want to hurt you, Ivan. I love you. _Ich liebe dich_."

"You're lying to yourself and to me. I don't want that, stop it!"

But Roderich wouldn't stop. He stepped forward and grabbed the other's arm, forced him to turn around completely until they stood face to face.

"I'm not lying one bit," he snarled, studying as Ivan's eyes widened, "I'm in love with you. You deserve love more than anyone in this world because of the hardships you have faced. I will give it to you." With my body and my soul.

He leaned up, grabbed the scarf around the other's neck and pulled him back into a new kiss, this time more passionately to show that he meant it, that he wasn't kidding.

"Stop," Ivan mumbled but had lost all kind of control of himself as he found his arms suddenly fold around the musician, holding him tightly. He was so happy... but also sad. He wanted to believe in what Roderich told him but... it was just too good to be true.

"_Nein_," came the short answer as the Austrian deepened the kiss, pressing himself against the other, forgetting his morals and ethics once more.

"I will hurt you." More a muffled grunt than actual words when he slowly began kissing back.

"I'm German, we can take a little bit of everything."

The kiss continued, grew in intensity and Roderich only barely noticed how he pressed himself so much against the Russian that he was forced to stumble backwards as he didn't want to fall. He felt a wall suddenly behind him and moaned lightly. His gloved hand grabbed the back of Roderich's head, forcing the man's lips closer to his own, though it wasn't violent.

It was slow and passionate, mouths moving carefully and only slowly parting to allow the other entrance. It was so new to both of them, though mostly to Ivan, and it was the Austrian who snaked his tongue into the other's slightly open mouth. The other moaned and shivered, his fingers trailing through the soft, brown hair. Eyes were closed and only the sensation of feathery, soft lips against his own and an equally soft but strong tongue playing with his filled him.

He had stopped thinking. Exactly when he didn't know, but he knew that he couldn't let the man go after this. No matter if he had been joking or not about the things he had said.

Roderich pulled away, causing the Russian to whimper in discontent before opening his eyes and seeing a sight he had never believed he would ever see. Roderich's face was flustered and flushed and his hands were trembling as he held onto the Russian so as not to fall. He was panting lightly.

"Roderich...?" The Russian spoke with a thick and hoarse voice and he suddenly looked worried, though his eyes were clouded with indescribable lust. His hand was still buried in the man's hair but this didn't seem to be the problem.

"I-It's okay," he mumbled and brought their lips together once more, effectively shutting Ivan up when he had looked like he had wanted to say something.

Both hearts beat fiercely and both faces were covered by a deep crimson as both mouths moved together, both throats rumbling with moans and gasps none could let go of.

Eventually it got too much for the Russian and his enormous power took over, the lust for Roderich being too great for him to hold back.

"I can't stop now," he whispered as he turned them around so Roderich was now the one to be pressed against the wall. "Sorry." All he got in response was a high-pitched moan and the aristocrat shivered visibly when Ivan broke the kiss to plant another on the pale neck, quickly and brutally ripping the coat off though without destroying it.

Roderich had to admit that he was slightly scared. The memory of the rape constantly came back and made him expect this time to be like the first though he knew it wouldn't be so. Or hoped so.

A low whimper escaped him when Ivan suddenly bit down on his neck and he automatically tried to flinch away but Ivan effectively hindered it by grabbing his head, pressing it into the wall and forcing him to stand still if he didn't want his neck to break. The other hand unbuttoned the shirt and threw it to the side carelessly and the fingers started trailing over the soft, delicate skin. He hummed against the neck where his teeth still were biting down, and without a thought, he let his hand wander to the Austrian's front.

Then the man reacted, instantly grabbing his hand and trying to force it away.

"What's wrong?" Ivan whispered and pulled away from the neck, letting his prominent nose stroke against Roderich's ear before planting a soft kiss on the shell of it, fingers gently stroked the front of the other's pants. A smile spread on his face as he felt something hard press against his fingers.

"N-not yet," the other moaned breathlessly and therefore not being very convincing. His attempt to get Ivan's hand away was equally weak and unconvincing, fingers weakly scratching the back of the Russian's hand.

"I'm sorry, but I can't hold back." Who would ever be able to when having such a gorgeous and beautiful man?

He undid the pants and they fell to the floor, followed by a whimper from Roderich who moved his hand to instead silence himself. The brunette was quivering greatly and the hand was not able to stifle the moans that escaped his traitorous mouth. Ivan's big, gloved and cold hand found his member and he jerked slightly, arching his back the tiniest bit. Shivers were running up and down his spine in a rapid pace and he couldn't help a loud whine when he was stroked through the fabric.

"You sound beautiful," Ivan said under his breath before slowly sliding the man's boxers off, also letting them fall to the floor.

Roderich shook his head but a small smile was on his face.

"And you are mine. Only mine." A hint of insane possessiveness under the sanity that shone through so clearly in his voice, had done the whole time today. Roderich whimpered when the hand caught his member again, stroking it slowly and passionately, teasingly. He leant his head back against the hand, already panting and Ivan couldn't help but bite down into the pale and exposed skin. The aristocrat cried out when he felt the teeth sink into his neck. That would definitely bruise tomorrow.

His own shaking hand found the Russian's soft hair, stroked it a few times before sliding down his body, pausing by the chest for a few seconds. The heart was beating so fast, so rapidly. Like his own. He smiled up at the Russian through half-lidded and clouded eyes, letting his hand fall further, ending by the other's navel and snaked around to the back, softly squeezing a buttock which caused the bigger to utter a sound that was a mix between a moan and a squeak and his hand to tighten nearly painfully around his member, thereby making him moan softly.

"Getting impatient?" Ivan panted and his lips curled into a smile filled with so much warmth he didn't know how his heart hadn't burst yet. His Roderich. His musician and his man.

"No," the other mumbled and chuckled lightly before he began palming Ivan's member through the coat and pants. He wasn't surprised to find that he could still feel how erect it was and an expression of shame came over Ivan's face and his lips was parted slightly, eyes closed in pleasure. "It's okay." The brunette used his other hand to close the gap between them, their lips meeting again, only more roughly this time. Mouths were moving, tongues were dancing and teeth occasionally clacked together.

Roderich moved his hand upwards again and undid the thick and heavy coat Ivan always wore. The other shook it off himself, shivering when the musician's hands dived under his shirt and touched his warm chest. It was only normal human-like temperature but that was warm for Ivan. His fingers slowly, sensually made their way down his chest and stomach, ending by the waistband of the pants. He quickly unzipped them and they ended in the pool of clothes by their feet before he with shaking fingers stroked the very erect member through the boxers.

Ivan moaned into the open mouth and accidentally bit his tongue when the other snaked a hand under the boxers and grabbed the throbbing and twitching manhood. Roderich moaned as well when they began stroking each other synchronically, slowly and teasingly at first, fingers softly following the veins and smearing hot pre-cum over the heads, moaning and panting, both with eyes closed in pleasure.

It didn't take long before it became too much for the bigger and though trying to stop himself, he didn't succeed. He grabbed Roderich's shoulders and while still kissing him fiercely and deeply forced them around and the brunette down on the floor. The smaller yelped in surprise but then chuckled lightly. He had been put down on their pile of clothes and it was very soft and nice.

"You good?" the Russian mumbled as he straddled Roderich, his breath hitching when their erections brushed together. The other nodded and hissed in pleasure when Ivan momentarily kissed the tip of his manhood before teasingly holding his lips just out of Roderich's reach. The brunette reached up and Ivan moved back, pinning the other's arms down to the floor and earned himself a miserable whimper.

"Are you prepared for what will come?" Ivan then asked with a serious but lustful face as he reached down and carefully moved a finger around the other's entrance after having spread the legs. The man nodded slowly but a small smile was on his face.

He found that he trusted Ivan in this. Ivan knew how last time had been for the other and Roderich had a feeling he was going to be gentle this time. He seriously hoped that, at least.

He was calmed when Ivan spoke again.

"I will try to be gentle," he whispered into his ear before putting two fingers on the other pair of lips and gently licking the ear shell, causing Roderich to shiver. The mouth opened and the fingers dipped inside whereupon the lips closed around them and Roderich closed his eyes as he let his tongue swirl around the fingers, doing his best to both do a pleasurable job as well as coating them with enough saliva to make it as close to painless as possible when they would be inserted.

Ivan hummed contented and started to slowly move the fingers in and out, helping Roderich with coating them. He whispered encouraging things to the Austrian when he felt the man slowly grow insecure in what he did and Ivan quickly bent forward to plant kisses on the bare skin, silently praising him before moving the sticky and wet fingers to the man's entrance again, letting a single finger gently poke it to let the other know he was going to go in. Roderich opened his eyes and found the Russian's. Worry and fear shone in the smaller pair while warmth and happiness shone in the other.

"Just say it if you want me stop. But it will be hard to hold back, Roderich..."

Roderich managed to move his arms out of the Russian's grip and locked them around the other's neck. "I... don't want you to hold back, Ivan," he whispered. The Russian shivered and slowly inserted a finger, pressing it past the ring of muscles and causing the other to gasp and the hands to go to his shoulders, rest there while shaking lightly.

Having given him enough time to adjust to one finger, Ivan put in the second, just as slowly and carefully. A small whimper passed the brunette's lips and his eyes fell shut as his fingers tightened on the Russian's shoulder. But he didn't say a word, didn't tell him to stop.

So Ivan didn't. He gave the Austrian enough time to adjust to the fingers before slowly starting to move them. The Austrian hissed lightly and arched his back, breathing becoming slightly quicker.

The Russian had his eyes open and they were focusing on the other, trying to determine if he was too hard or too rough on him. But even if that would happen to be the case, Ivan knew he wasn't able to stop. Even if he hadn't really started yet, he was unable to stop.

The tightness around his fingers, the warmth and the shivering insides of the Austrian, the man's small moans and groans and hissing noises got Ivan to speed up just a little and though still trying to be as kind as possible, he couldn't help but thrust harder than Roderich found comfortable. The man uttered a low scream and covered his mouth with his hand.

Neither really knew when, how or why but at one point, Ivan had managed to get in three fingers which he now thrust in and out of the smaller man with enough force and speed to drive tears to the brunette's eyes, his body shaking and writhing in pain as much as pleasure.

Ivan was nearly panting, as if he had been running a marathon, and his chest was rising and sinking at a speed he wasn't used to. But he was still too swallowed up by having his Roderich here, his little and almost perfect man he so desired. He was his and he would never, ever let go again.

An especial hard and deep thrust got the brunette to scream again, though this time only filled to the brim with pleasure and his back nearly lifted from the floor in a beautiful arch.

"Seems I found the spot," Ivan whispered into the man's ear before biting down on the shell of it, stopping the motion of his fingers. Roderich whined lowly and buried his face in the crook of the other's neck, gasping for air and blinded by pleasure he hadn't believed he could ever feel. Why did it feel so good? How did he... what had he touched? He couldn't even think straight, couldn't rationally answer these questions and he was forced to forget them as well when he felt Ivan pull out his fingers, slowly, agonizingly slowly, before letting his very erect manhood poke the entrance though without moving in.

He waited for what seemed like an eternity before finally moving again. His arm snaked around the Austrian's waist and held him tightly to his own chest, stroking his head slowly and gently.

"You ready, Roderich?" he gasped, he couldn't wait much longer and it was with immense relief that he saw the other nod. It was a short and curt nod but it was a nod nonetheless, silently giving permission to continue.

"Ple-please," he whispered and planted a quick and soft kiss on the neck before him, "d-do it now."

And who was Ivan to deny such begging words coming from his own musician?

He hammered inside without any real thought or consideration for the smaller man, ignoring the fact he was the biggest of all of them. In every meaning of that sentence. It must have been pretty painful for the other... But he couldn't think of that now, he was in too much pleasure, in too much bliss to really, fully hear the pained scream Roderich let out.

He was still tight. The man was still tight even after three fingers. And how wonderful it was. Ivan groaned and hissed at the same time, causing a very interesting sound, when he had forced himself all the way inside. Only then did he let the lids fall back and he looked down at his musician.

His mouth was open widely, though teeth were clenched together and his eyes closed tightly, nails digging into the Russian's shoulders. A searing pain formed at his entrance and around the other and he felt like he was going to break. He might be German but even they mostly preferred that place to be treated nicely.

"Are you okay?" Ivan whispered and forced himself to stay still until Roderich had given the signal. The smaller man was shivering and quivering and a few tears slid down his cheeks. He was panting and his eyes slowly opened, focusing on other violet orbs. His body was struggling to keep up and adjust to the size inside him, a so unusual feeling literally filling him.

He then moved his hands to the Russian's cheeks and gently, but firmly pulled the man down for a kiss. He was scared, he could now honestly say that he was scared and that he was in pain. But... he still felt that Ivan would be careful, that Ivan would still try and take care of him.

"I-I'm fine," he whispered into the kiss, eyes slowly falling shut once more as their lips met and slowly, passionately moved together and Ivan carefully nodded and even more carefully moved out the smallest bit and went in again. Slowly, carefully, without any haste. Just give the other time, of course it would take time for the other to adjust. He _was_ the biggest of them all, of course.

"Tell me to stop if it hurts," the Russian mumbled against open lips and let his tongue play with the other's bottom lip before gently nibbling at it, making Roderich moan lightly between the whines. The brunette just nodded and tilted his head a tiny bit, wincing and whimpering as he was slowly stretched and Ivan started moving faster and hit deeper with every thrust.

As a steady pace was built and Roderich had gotten more comfortable, one of Ivan's hands suddenly found his neck. There was no pressure or force behind the touch, the hand simply rested there as Ivan continued to move, panting and moaning and hissing because of the wonderful sensation. It made the Austrian gasp and try to squirm away but he ended up moving in a way that caused Ivan to hit just _that_ spot again and he was blinded by the pleasure it sent rushing through his body.

And Ivan had unconsciously growled and let his hand curl the tiniest bit around the neck before him, making his man whine in fear, pleasure and surprise at the same time. A highly peculiar sound.

He moved faster, feeling the climax quickly approach and making his movements unsteady and without any rhythm. He was being watched by the brunette under him and what the brunette saw gradually turned from one kind of beast to another. The thrusts became deeper and harder, yet without anything even close to a rhythm. Ivan was growling and hissing with every movement and his eyes shone with the deepest and fiercest lust Roderich had ever seen burn in anyone's eyes.

For the Austrian, this scene had started out as painful but now held nearly no pain and he could only gasp and moan, writhing around under the bigger man as his special spot was hit dead on over and over again. The hand around his throat had curled another bit, causing the pleasure as well as the tiny bit of pain he felt to sharpen when the air supply was slightly cut off, and the two feelings accompanied each other in a way Roderich had never imagined it could.

It didn't take long before Roderich had become completely undone under the Russian's hands and movements. He soon found himself pleading for climax as well but Ivan was a tease and wouldn't let him touch himself so it could happen sooner. He instead grabbed the aristocrat's hands with his own free one and pinned them down over the man's head. Their eyes locked and the Russian's glistened with amusement and lust and he leant down to bring their lips together in a rough and almost painful kiss.

Roderich gasped and moaned into the open mouth that forced his head backwards and into the floor, stars flashing before his inner vision as his mind went completely numb. He began to struggle against the hands holding him down, only causing even less air to fill his lungs and he hissed out another moan as Ivan bit his lower lip harshly, hard enough to draw blood.

"Roderich," the bigger man snarled bestially and thrust inside a few more times before he felt the heat in his stomach move to his groin where it quickly flooded into his member and he went in and out with all the force he could muster, slamming inside with no mercy until he came a few thrusts later, being still as he exploded into the Austrian and a low rumble erupted from his throat. Somehow he managed to not choke the Austrian completely. His hand just tightened its grip even more.

Roderich's breath hitched as he felt the hot seed fill him. The fingers around his neck was starting to make his head spin and he felt the nails dig into the skin painfully. His back arched as he recognized the feeling of climax quickly approach, breaths being short and panting and he nearly screamed out when Ivan made a few more thrusts, riding off his orgasm, and came himself.

The scream was soundless due to the hand on his neck and due to the fact he hadn't used his voice very... properly for a long time and it almost hurt in his throat. The warm sensation filled his member until it burst and the hot, white fluid was smeared all over his stomach and chest, and his hands twitched, aching from not being able to touch Ivan in the moment and he whined soundlessly again when the other sent another last and deep thrust into him. That spot was hit again and caused the Austrian's orgasm to almost double until he finally came down from his high and lied against the floor again.

They were both panting heavily and Ivan had let go of the other's neck, hanging his own head forward and the soft, sweaty hair sticking to his temples. Few strands were disobedient and tickled the Austrian's soft and equally sweaty skin.

Neither of them really knew how long they lied there, hearts beating rapidly and both members slowly going back to normal while they looked at each other, not really a hundred per cent sure just what had been going on. Ivan slowly let go of the musician's hands as well, his own going to each side of the man's head, bringing him a little away from the man.

Then a light knocking was heard from the door and both men looked over at it, Roderich not really succeeding as he was still lying on his back.

"M-Mr. Ivan, sir?" a shaking and very nervous voice said, "a-are you and Mr. Roderich okay?" The Russian looked down at the brunette, a small smile spreading on his face.

"Well, are you?" he asked and pulled back so the other could sit if he wanted to. But the brunette didn't, instead letting a hand brush over the sticky hair.

"I'm... more than okay," he whispered and chuckled lightly before sighing deeply and closing his eyes, lips curled in a wide and soft smile.

The Russian looked immensely pleased with this - not that he had thought anything else, though - and his attention was taken back to the door. "We're fine, Toris, you can go again."

They heard the sound of nervous fumbling with something before the man dashed away.

Another minute passed by before Ivan had mind enough to do anything besides staring down at his Austrian. Their heart rate had come to a more normal pace and the Russian slowly pulled out of the other with a soft 'plop' before standing up equally slowly. "I will find something to clean that up with, _da_!" he said, being so happy he almost flew around the room.

In the meantime, Roderich was just lying still on the floor, trying hard to ignore the sensation of Ivan's seed seeping out of him but he still couldn't keep off a shiver. He... he was confused but at the same time, he was more happy than he could remember having been for a long time.

After having gotten themselves clean and into some clothes, Ivan invited the Austrian to stay. The man, of course, accepted and they sat down in the living room, though not in the same piece of furniture. Even after their... heated interaction, they still weren't sure how to act when being close to each other. This would take some time getting used to.

Ivan had made Toris prepare some tea for the Austrian while the Russian of course just went along with a small bottle of Vodka. After all, he had been drinking heavily the days before and even his body had somehow been affected and wasn't that happy about him at the time.

Toris hadn't dared ask why both of them looked so exhausted and so happy, yet shy at the same time and he had just carried out his master's orders.

So now they sat across each other and looked into the other's pair of violet orbs while trying to create small-talk and failing miserably at doing so. It just wouldn't work. This was also the reason Roderich suddenly broke off a conversation about different kinds of beer with a small cough and a slightly more serious expression on his face. The Russian seemed surprised and tilted his head lightly as if he didn't understand why the other would cut off their conversation like that.

"About... the little event in your study, Ivan," he started and couldn't fight off a small smile, taking a sip of the tea, "I assume this means we're now... lovers... or what?"

"_Da_!" Ivan said loudly and happily, eyes glistening with warmth as he watched his Austrian. "We're lovers now, _da_! And you have become one with Russia!"

"But I already did that half a year ago, remember?" The Russian tilted his head even more, smiling widely.

"But now you also wanted to! That means more than that time!" He was obviously extremely happy and he suddenly stood up and went over to the other man and sat down upon him, ignoring the bad leg and the fact he weighed about half a ton in pure muscles. "And you like me, and I like you, so we both like each other and that's good, _da_!"

Roderich kept off a whine of pain, instead managing to widen the smile already on his face. Ivan seemed somewhat like normal and insane as always but it was somehow in a way Roderich didn't mind that much anymore. He had found the human behind the mask and he would continue to like that man for a long, long time.

"How are you going to tell your ex-wife?" Ivan then decided to ask, nuzzling closer to the brunette like a small child. The Austrian shifted in the chair, as much as it was possible, in slight discomfort.

"I... haven't really thought about it yet," he mumbled and got a small frown on his face, leaning his head against the other. "I think I will go back in a few days and then tell her. She will have to know first. I don't know how she will react... except for with anger. I think she will be very angry with me."

"_Da_," Ivan said and planted a small kiss on the Austrian's cheek before moving away, causing the other to wince in pain when his leg was brushed. "She will not be happy about you! But who cares, I have you and you have me, that's all that matters!" Yes, he was indeed close to his normal insanity, despite the amount of Vodka in his blood. If his blood just wasn't pure Vodka.

A few minutes went by until Toris opened the door again, asking if they wanted anything more. They both thanked no and the shaking Lithuanian got over to them, got the empty cup and the empty bottle before exiting and letting the alone once more.

Another question appeared in the Austrian's mind as he pulled his coat closer around himself. It was still freezing cold in this house but it was as if he had gotten used to it by now. He didn't need the giant coat Ivan had given him and he didn't need to be wrapped up in the blanket from the car, either.

"How will we do this? I mean... we live pretty far from each other and all. Not to mention this place is freezing cold, still." Ivan looked like he had already figured that one out, had it planned for weeks.

"We arrange occasional private meetings, _da_! And since the other nations are such idiots there will be many World Meetings and after those I will come home with you, _da_!" It was nice and warm in the Austrian's house. Ivan liked that. He didn't the cold in his own house but it would be nice to go to a warm place every once in a while.

And it was clear Ivan would take no objections.

-

As he had hoped to get permission to - not that he doubted he wouldn't be allowed to - he got home to Vienna a few days later where he found Elizabeta waiting together with Gilbert. They were busy arguing over something and they both looked like they had been at it for hours until they noticed the cab pull up at beside them.

It was with mixed emotions from the others that he got out of the car. The woman was happy and hugged him the moment he was free of the vehicle, nearly causing them to roll around on the ground. Gilbert just stood and looked both angry and shocked at the same time, a pretty unusual expression for him to show.

Before the Hungarian got to attack the Austrian further with questions and comments and the like, Gilbert had mind enough to pull her away from the other man and together, they got into the house behind them. Elizabeta had a hard time letting Roderich make them tea and prepare some cakes and it was actually only thanks to the Prussian that he got to do it when the albino took the woman out of the kitchen before she could get a pan to smack him with.

Finally, when Roderich had prepared what he felt was fitting and appropriate, he carried it into the living room and put it down before the woman and the ex-nation, then sitting himself in the armchair in front of them.

As he began telling of his new relationship with the Russian and what they had been talking about, Elizabeta looked both extremely shocked and extremely angry. She jumped up from the couch and started yelling at him for being idiotic and blind and things like that. Gilbert, on the other hand, simply looked at him, looking absolutely unimpressed and raised an eyebrow. It ended with Elizabeta being so angry she almost started to tear up and she ran off while cursing the Austrian in her own language. Gilbert sent him a look that said 'So you couldn't get anything better than Ivan? Stupid prick,' before he also got up and left the brunette.

Roderich leant forward and hid his face in his hands. Good grief... He had thought they would have reacted something like this but that didn't make it easier to handle. He had never seen Elizabeta that angry before. And he couldn't quite define if Gilbert was just too pissed to say anything or if he was simply disappointed or whatever the fuck he felt. If he even felt something about it. That was doubtful.

Well, at least this would mean those two would keep out of the house for a while, probably taking care of their shock in their own way and also going around and telling it to the other nations. Roderich felt himself blush lightly by the thought. God, what would the others say when they heard about this?

**Aah, it somehow feels really good to be done with this at last. It has taken me, what, half a year or so? I'm sorry for having updated like a douche! Buuut, I hope you have liked it and I would be very grateful if you would leave a review, no matter if you like it, love it, hate it or want to cut my body in two parts and bury it in the Atlantic Ocean for wasting your time.  
>Also, a big thank you to all of those who have encouraged me in this, you guys have really helped me out!<strong>

_Translations:  
><em>Nyet: No (Russian)  
>Nein: No (German)<br>Ich liebe dich: I love you (German)  
>Da: Yes (Russian)<p> 


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